A Dark Awakening
by SharkAttack719
Summary: Perseus wished he'd been part of the Trojan War. But he was too young. Instead, he was adopted by Menelaus and Helen of Sparta after their return from Troy. When he nears his 16th birthday, Percy's life begins to fall apart around him and he's forced to flee for his life on an adventure that will mark him as the world's deadliest hero. AU. T for mild cussing/suggestive scenes
1. Hesitation

**NewStyle...Author'sNoteAtThe End**

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**Chapter 1**

"Mom, can I go now?" an impatient Perseus whined.

Queen Helen of Sparta pressed her lips together. "Not yet, Perseus. Soon. I promise."

Frustrated, the young prince of Sparta went to collect the bow from the hook on the wall. He shook it in Helen's face. "Let me go, now! I don't see what the big deal is. I'm not even the heir to the throne. Why do I have to stay for the celebration? Dad's other sons are taking the throne."

"This is a special event, Perseus," Helen said tightly. "You cannot miss your, ah, step-brother's initiation into kingship."

Perseus snorted. "What is he going to do? Sleep with a girl for the first time?"

"Perseus!"

The young man stepped toward the window and looked outside. The day was bright, beautiful, and full of an airy tension. Just a couple years after the Trojan War, one in which Percy wasn't allowed to participate in, King Menelaus of Sparta was finally dying. The title of King of Sparta was to be bestowed upon his heir. In all honesty, Percy couldn't care less about who became the king of the throne because he knew he _wasn't_ going to be that king.

Just under seventeen years ago, in the a village just outside of Sparta, there was a woman who had been rumored to be raped by the god Poseidon. Barely nine months later, the Spartans had accepted a new male warrior into their great city. But the woman had died in childbirth. That left the child without any family. So, the king at the time, Tyndareus, adopted the boy and chose him to be the grandson of the heir to Sparta's throne. When Castor and Polydeuces passed on, Helen became the next heir, and the boy became her son. Menelaus became his father when he won Helen's hand in marriage.

Like every other Spartan, Percy was put through the tests of a Spartan boy to prove whether he was worthy or not of being a Spartan warrior. Any Spartan boy began his initiation at the age of seven. At that point, his mother had pranced off to Troy with prince Paris, and his father had gone to kill her. So, he trained without family, Tyndareus and his wife having passed on as well.

He was too young to fight in Troy, and Menelaus trusted the Spartan guard to take care of him when he went off. Therefore, he kept training and training and training. Percy knew that there was something inside of him that made him a good warrior. He had an uncanny ability in close combat. Swords were his specialty. No one in his age group could defeat him. It was almost as if he were the true heir to the Spartan throne. But that couldn't be further from the truth.

One day, the day he turned thirteen, Percy found out, from a dream, that he was the son of the Sea God, Poseidon. His mother had been exiled from Athens long ago after a small rebellion had taken place. She settled in the village just outside of Sparta and stayed there until her death.

Furthermore, Poseidon had not actually raped her. They had fallen in love, but Percy was an accident. He was not supposed to be born.

That part was the harsh fact that made him believe it all.

It wasn't the fact that the gods seemed to speak to him directly (Zeus, Hades and Poseidon). It wasn't the fact that he was having a dream about Olympus, which looked about as real as any city did. It wasn't the fact that Hades had shown him the Underworld. It was the fact that he was an accident.

Crazy, isn't it.

Still, he was adopted by the King and Queen of Sparta. They were his parents no matter the case.

The crazier the story, the less likely that it's made up. Percy was gullible like that.

"And stop calling me Perseus," he argued. "I'm not a son of Zeus. If you want, you can call me _Per-seidon_. But Percy works best. It has a—well, I like the foreign sound it has."

Helen sighed wearily, and immediately, Percy felt guilty. He knew that Helen didn't have the best reputation around here, especially considering the fact that she'd betrayed the whole city for a petty prince from Troy.

Percy thought differently. He thought that the fact that only Heracles could penetrate their walls was pretty impressive. They must have had a good military. Emphasis on _had_.

Considering Menelaus was on his death bed, Helen knew she was on the verge of being exiled. Megapenthes, son of Menelaus by another woman, was ready to receive the title of King of Sparta. Menelaus was considered incurable by the doctors, so many thought it time to choose a new leader. Unfortunately, he, like many of the other higher ranking officials, detested Helen for leaving and tearing the honour away from the Greek city-states.

"You will pass your sixteenth solstice soon, Percy," Helen said sadly, looking out the window with him. "Wait fifty or so moons and it will be sixteen full cycles since your birth. Years, we call them now, right? You are a brave young man, and no matter what happens, become a great Spartan warrior, even under your brother's rule. And none of that hunting business. That is more northern…not Spartan."

Percy looked at the elegant bow he'd crafted. It was a style he'd learned after going on a trip up north. There are two different types of bows in Hellas: recurve and reflex. Recurve bows are shaped quite like straight bows; they curve in an arc, the belly (or center grip) of the bow further away from the archer than the ends. However, the ends then curve outwards away from the archer allowing for the string to store more energy. It works best for hunting. Reflex bows are similar to recurve bows, in that their ends curve outwards away from the archer; however, the bow length immediately curves away from the belly, before curving back, and then curving out once again. Reflex bows are seldom used at all because they need expert craftsmanship and are very hard to string.

But when you've been using reflex bows from the age of five, they're not that much of a problem.

The wood that had been crafted and glued together by animal adhesive was painted dark black colour, with shades of sea-green and forest-green for camouflage during hunts in the forest at night. The string was taut, even though it wasn't nocked.

And that was the biggest difference between him and the rest of the Spartan boys. Even though he had a great ability with a sword (With a spear, he would be gutted instantly.), he was also the only boy to relish in the art of hunting.

Percy often marveled in the stories of Orion and his hunting ability. It was a shame that Apollo killed him.

Despite Sparta's motto about being someone like Achilles—not that Percy didn't want to be like the eternal warrior—Percy felt like he could be both. It wasn't that big of a deal to him to be the best warrior Hellas has ever seen because no one would be able to eclipse Achilles. And besides, he was atrocious with a spear.

Percy glanced back at Helen, and for the first time in a long time, he noticed just how young the beautiful queen was. She was, at the most, in her late twenties. Just under thirty cycles of winter and summer. He was almost sixteen, which would mean he was just over half her age. Even though it wasn't uncommon for women to be young when they first bore children, it was more common to see children being birthed when the woman was fifteen to seventeen, not thirteen or fourteen, even if they were ready.

Helen would have been fourteen if she was his birth mother.

But the look in the young queen's eyes told everyone that she had been through more than just womanhood. She had seen war, where her lover had been killed, where death consumed nearly everyone around her. All because of the simple action of leaving Hellas for a Trojan prince.

"Mom—"

Helen reached into a fold in her _peplos_ and pulled out a dagger from a hidden belt. The sheath was made of black leather and bound in bronze. She held it out for Percy. "This is Katoptris. The goddess Aphrodite gifted this to me when I became Troy's princess for nine years. This is a curse for me, but a prophecy uttered by Helenus in Troy told me that one of my sons would be able to wield it, control its power. You are my only son, though we share not the same blood. I trust gratefully that you will harness its power one day."

Percy frowned and took the dagger. Examining it, he pulled it out of its sheath. The hilt of the weapon was polished wood with a bronze triangular blade two times the size of his outstretched hand from wrist to the tip of the middle finger.

"How is this a curse?"

Suddenly, the reflection in the bronze dagger shimmered, and he saw an image of a dead Helen hanging from the bough of a tree, a rope strung around her neck, with a littering of dead bodies strewn across the ground around her.

Yelping, he dropped the knife. It clattered to the floor loudly.

"What was that?!" he exclaimed, his heart beating in his chest.

Helen winced. "That was a vision. I have seen that one many times before, though I can never decipher its meaning. Will it ever come true? Perhaps, perhaps not. In any case, I have never been able to see what I want to see. I believe that it one day will be able to be used by a hero to be able to see what they want to see, because if there is one thing I regret, it is that I allowed my selfishness and pride to be my downfall."

Gingerly, Percy picked the dagger up once again. He strapped it to the belt that he wore to keep his _chiton_ from flying right up. Its weight, including the sheath, didn't seem to gravitate him too much to one side. He attached it to his dominant side, so it would be quick to pull out. Whatever sword he would use would stay on his non-dominant side, so he could unsheathe it with deadly malice.

Percy turned to Helen and bowed. "Thank you, mother," he said uncertainly, unsure of the gift that she gave him.

"We must be off to Megapenthes' coronation," she said quickly. "The entire kingdom of Sparta will be here to celebrate the new king. You would not want to be late for the festival, would you?"

"Of course, I'll be right down."

Helen nodded and strode out of the room toward her chambers, shutting his door behind her, where she would be changing into a dress. If there was one thing Percy knew about Helen, it was that she didn't need makeup to be pretty. Fortunately, that meant she needed less time to prepare than the average woman.

Sighing, Percy went over to the corner of his room and picked up his quiver. He liked the back quiver because it felt too awkward when it was suspended from his belt. After strapping the quiver onto his back, he went for the braces. They were sleeves to protect his arm from the lashing of the drawstring. Then he checked to make sure his thumb ring was still there. The thumb ring was to protect his finger from straining against the drawstring when pulling back since he preferred the eastern draw over the traditional Mediterranean draw.

Pulling an arrow from his quiver, he nocked an arrow and pulled back, just to test it out. It felt comfortable enough.

Preparing for the worst at the festival, he kept his bow stringed and slung it over his head, the string holding his chest tightly as the curves of the limbs touched his back unevenly. He ruffled with his hair a little bit and made his way to the door of his room.

As he touched the polished wood of the door, he hesitated. After debating in his own mind for a couple of minutes, he pulled out Katoptris and looked into his reflection. In his reflection, he saw a young man with jet black hair and sea-green eyes. Wistfully, he thought of the open sea, which Sparta did not have access to, having a land-based military and little need for ships. It had been a long time since he'd seen the ocean; the last time was when the thirteen-year-old Spartans were brought to Argos to learn about the weak port and battle tactics to overrun the city.

Suddenly, a part of Percy felt resentful. Why had Poseidon never come to see him before? Why had Poseidon never sent him any messages aside from that _one_ dream? Why? They'd made mortals fight a whole war for them. They would have _had_ to make contact to be able to do that.

Then Percy sighed. The gods were gods. And besides, Poseidon was one of the Big Three. He had other responsibilities apart from the consequences of one-night affairs. Percy was just a mortal. There was no way that Poseidon would ever care for him unless he did something heroic. The chances of that happening were slim to none.

He had no throne to reclaim like Jason or Theseus. He had not slaughtered his own family and did not need to compensate as Heracles did. He didn't need to fulfill the orders of another king like Bellerophon. He didn't need to prove his worth like Atalanta because he wasn't a girl. He wasn't the great "invincible" hero needed to fight a war as Achilles was.

The only thing he was capable of doing was hunting and sword fighting. The best at his age group at both in Sparta, though for hunting that wasn't such a big deal.

His reflection rippled in the dagger, and he nearly dropped it again. In the reflection, he saw himself tied against a tree, arrows sprouting from the wood in his most vulnerable places: around his head, near his wrists, grazing his ribs, and his manhood that was very close to being shot off.

Shivering, he shoved the dagger back into its sheath and pushed out of the door.

Slowly, he made his way down the steps to the front entrance of the palace. He stepped outside into the courtyard where Spartan guards immediately stood straighter at the sight of him. Many raised their weapons in a salute, but he waved them off.

"I'm not the king of this place," he told them. "I'm just another…Spartan. That's all."

As Percy made his way down the external steps, he noticed the large crowd that had gathered around to await this grand moment. He saw Megapenthes standing with the guards alone the steps. As Percy made eye contact with the soon-to-be king, Megapenthes nodded courteously. Percy nodded back, a tight smile on his face.

Percy looked back at the palace. The tall marble columns came down upon the front entrance like giant statues. They lined the front of the palace. They rose to the roof of the palace before colliding with a flattened slab of marble that rose even further into the sky. It extended about two times his height. On the center of the front face were paintings and engravings of the many symbols of Sparta. The largest image there was a giant shield engraved with _Lambda_. That letter stood for the region Sparta was in: Laconia. Among that image were the images of Spartan warriors ready for battle, and a collection of spear designs and helmets. If the rest of the palace wasn't decorated with special gems and jewels, anyone could have mistaken it for a military school.

Out of the entrance of the palace was an elevated platform made of stones that were stuck together as if it were a road. On either side of the platform, grew stone steps that curled away from the palace like a giant arc. They were wide but did not decrease much in height as the elevated platform was only elevated up to an average man's neck. The final side of the platform was blocked by a stone wall that stood up to the hip to protect people from falling right off of the platform. It was low enough so that the entire upper body of anyone behind it could still be seen from below.

Percy slithered his way into the crowd, picking up fragments of conversations as he passed by.

"_They say Menelaus is dead already._"

"_Good thing Menelaus and the whore didn't have children_."

"_The traitor woman won't have any heirs. If she knows what's best for her, she'll be gone before the ceremony's over_."

"_He's going to kick her out, I tell you. Not fit to be a Spartan queen, that woman_."

"_The prince, the child of the Athenian woman, he's supposedly the best fighter of his age group. You think Megapenthes and Nicostratus will make him an elite guard?_"

Percy ignored what they spoke as he found the gates to the courtyard. A group of guards stood there, watching suspiciously as people passed in and out of the palace courtyard. All of them were Spartans, all of them lived because they were strong enough to be soldiers, or they were women who underwent lots of physical education.

Remembering the fact that most Greek women had children at relatively younger ages, he also remembered the fact that in Sparta women usually _wed_ in their late teens or early twenties, not to mention babies. They had more rights in Sparta, which acted as a counterbalance of killing babies that were seemingly "unfit" to be a Spartan. Unlike Athens, where women had nearly no rights, Spartan women could marry out of attraction rather than wealth. Percy knew that if he were a woman, he would want to live in Sparta rather than anywhere else.

A group of Spartan girls his age passed through the gates. They wore simple _chitons_, like men, although they were designed to better suit their more slender bodies. Still, they looked strong and could probably flip him like a rag doll.

A few of them noticed him standing there, and he waved. The ones that looked at him immediately turned back to their little group and laughed, sparing a few glances his way.

After they passed through, a group of Spartan boys his age appeared at the gates. They were dressed quite similarly to the girls, except for the fact that their _chitons_ were lower cut at the top. They didn't need to cover up their breasts as much. Well, neither did the girls, but it was just considered the "social norm."

Like with the girls, a few of them spent glances his way. Percy nodded politely. They saluted back, honouring his status as the best male fighter of the age group.

Then, Percy made his move.

When the boys disappeared into the crowd, he walked straight up to the royal guards.

"Hey, Prince Percy!" the lead guard, Philokrates, said, halting the sixteen-year-old boy. "Where do you think you're going?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "I'm going hunting."

Philokrates shook his head and laughed. "No, you're not. Orders from Megapenthes and Helen. You are _not_ leaving this place. Why don't you hang around with the boys of your age group. There's plenty of things you guys can talk about! Like having only a couple of years until you can become part of the reserves of the Spartan army! Isn't that wonderful?"

Percy sighed. "I _could_ talk about that, but it'd be kind of boring. I mean, wouldn't it be more useful to _torture_ the helots instead of killing them? Torturing has this psychological effect on the others. Killing does as well, but I mean…"

"Killing is part of being Spartan, Percy," Philokrates said. "You can't capture and torture everyone in battle." A dark look clouded his eyes. "The Trojan War was messy. You wouldn't believe how many Trojans the Myrmidons killed mercilessly. Achilles led the way. It was a bloody massacre."

Philokrates was a war veteran, even though he had gone only at the age of twenty-four. He spent nine years in Troy before the war was won before returning with Menelaus and Helen to Sparta. After a couple more years, he continued serving Menelaus until today, when Megapenthes would become king. The man's dark eyes darkened, if that was possible.

"But you can't go hunting," the Spartan veteran said. "That's not Sparta's ways. And you have to be here for your brother when he becomes king. You have to set an example."

Percy groaned. "Come on! Why can't I go hunting? It's not like Megapenthes or Nicostratus would care!"

"You just can't!" Philokrates exclaimed. "It's orders. You have to learn to follow the orders of others, or you'll get _nowhere_ as a Spartan. It's about communication. You can't lead every single time. You can't leave whenever you want. You'll get yourself killed, and I don't want that to be on my hands."

Percy growled and spat, "Fine. I'll stay."

"Good. Now have some fun. We're celebrating a new king!"

Philokrates turned him around and pushed him straight into one of the girls. He stumbled and nearly fell on her, but their training kept them active and light on their feet. He caught his balance as she caught hers.

He looked awkwardly to the ground. "Hello, Wisdom."

The girl slightly tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean Sophia or wisdom?"

"Wisdom," he replied, a small grin playing at his lips as he looked up.

Percy, spending most of his time either training or hunting in the woods, lacked the ability to socialize. Sure, he could talk to people, but often it descended into a state of awkwardness where he would part with the other person quickly. It was part of the reason why he didn't often talk with the guys that were his age. He just…couldn't.

"Funny," Sophia said dryly. She brushed the short bangs out of her eyes. "So, prince of Sparta. How does it feel to _not_ become king?"

Percy noticed that her hair was brown and stringy, cut short so that it only straightened to her shoulders. Her eyes were brown as well, dark and warrior-like, like what all Spartans should look like. The last time he'd seen her was a couple days back. Her hair was longer back then, twisted into a braid so it wouldn't get in her way.

He laughed a little. "I wouldn't be a good king. First of all, I'm not even related by blood to either the king _or_ queen. Second of all, I would need _a lot_ of help to run Sparta. I'd need a smart and wise wife. But apparently, I need to be thirty to be able to marry. Congrats to me!"

She was staring at him a little, but when she realized he had nothing else to say, gave him a nod of understanding. "I guess I can see where you're coming from. But it doesn't matter anyway. You were born near Sparta. Nearly _in_ Sparta, so you're still Spartan. You'll become a great warrior. Trust me. I know."

Percy looked up toward the palace. Helen was standing out there now, her eyes locked on him. She wore a white dress. Plain and simple. Quite different from the Helen he'd heard of and seen from before the Trojan War.

"Probably," Percy told Sophia. "So, you're coming up on eighteen soon. You'll be getting married, if you set your eyes on a nice thirty year old. Or you could marry a man between twenty and thirty but not be able to see them until the night when he would sneak out from the barracks. And you would have to worry every single day that he might not come back from battle. That'd be pretty stressful."

Sophia glanced at him with a mysterious look. "Sometimes I detest the fact that I have to marry someone so much older. At least I'm not from Athens. Often, I wish that I could marry someone my age. You know, our age. If, in Sparta, we are allowed to marry for character and physical sturdiness, why is it always men that choose us out instead of the other way around?"

"At least you get chosen because of your character and physical sturdiness unlike the idiots in Athens," Percy snorted. "Besides, don't you remember the fact that women who can bear stronger children will be used to birth even more children instead of a woman who can only bear the weak? If I know you, which I really don't, you'll be that woman who bears the most children."

She crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed, "Only my husband is going to do that to me. No one else."

"Stubborn," he noted. "Good to know. Anyway, do you think I should go up there now? Nicostratus is out, Helen is out, and Megapenthes is ready. It all seems fit."

Sophia looked toward the palace. She nodded, "Yes. I think it's about time. We want to celebrate, don't we?"

Percy laughed humorlessly. "I just want this to be over with. See you, Sophia."

She nodded, and Percy briskly walked up toward his family. He walked up the stone steps, and as he did, all eyes and ears turned toward the palace, looking at the soon-to-be king, the soon-to-not-be queen, and the soon-to-be king's brothers.

Percy looked at Megapenthes, who stood at the front of the platform. He was right in the center, Helen and Nicostratus to his either side and a couple steps back. Percy joined them and stood on the outside of Helen.

Megapenthes cleared his throat and announced in his loudest, clearest voice. "Sparta!"

The voices of the crowd before them slowly fizzled down until there was absolute silence. They watched eagerly, ready for their new king, the heir to King Menelaus, to receive his crown.

Megapenthes was older than Helen, if you didn't know that already. Of course Menelaus, being over twenty years older than Helen, had children that were older than his prized wife. He was still younger than Tyndareus by a reasonable margin, so that didn't make him a part of the previous generation. It was just common to have such age differences. Megapenthes had been accepted into the most honourable public mess mainly because he was a royal, but was technically a legal Spartan citizen and could marry at any time. Even to Helen.

"I have news of despair and distraught," Megapenthes said clearly. "My father, King Menelaus of Sparta, has passed on from an illness that was incurable. We have lost a great leader today. One that fought for Hellas in the Trojan War. Maybe Hades grant his soul Elysium." He held up his hands, as if to silence the crowd had it been in an uproar. "However, I am pleased to be honoured with the title of King of Sparta to continue my father's legacy! And furthermore, I have thought long and hard about who I would like to be my queen. She is a wonderful young lady. She is the daughter of Alector and her name is Iphiloche. My step-mother, Helen, has been gracious enough to step down from the throne to allow my wife the spot as queen. So let us feast and celebrate for not only me, but Menelaus and Helen!"

The crowd erupted into cheers as Megapenthes clapped his hands together.

Percy saw Iphiloche, a young twenty-one year old woman, make her way with her father to him as they prepared to embrace.

Helots seemed to pour out of the palace as tables were moved out and food was being brought from the kitchen. The Spartan elite and many of the Spartan citizens waited in anticipation for the food to arrive.

"Most of the festivities will occur out here," Megapenthes announced, "however, the true ceremony will be held after dusk inside the throne room. Then after, we will mourn for Menelaus and play a funeral games in his honour!"

The food and the drinks were almost ready, as Spartan citizens began taking chairs from helots to sit down and celebrate, when the very last helot came out of the throne room with a large dagger in his hands.

Stunning everyone, the helot, a teenage boy about Percy's age, yelled, "Death to the king!"

Everyone froze for a split second as the helot, within striking distance, lunged for Megapenthes. Immediately, the guards reacted, but in any case would have been far too late. Luckily, Percy had kept himself well armed for the festival and pulled Katoptris out.

He parried the helot's strike before twisting the dagger out of the helot's grip. Percy kicked the weapon aside, twisted the helot's arm painfully, slammed Katoptris' wooden hilt into a very vulnerable spot called a "solar plexus," and shoved the helot to the ground. Immediately, Percy brought the winded servant to the stone wall and shoved his chin into the rough surface of the rock.

It only made the servant hurt more.

"Percy," gaped Megapenthes. "You just saved my life."

Grunting, he growled, "What did I tell you, Helen? Bringing weapons isn't always bad."

The Spartan guards immediately threatened each of the helots to see if any others were involved with the attempted assassination. All of the helots and servants looked about as confused as the crowd did.

"Kill him!" Nicostratus roared.

The crowd agreed. Many of them repeated Nicostratus' outburst.

"Please don't!" gasped the boy from under his grip.

Percy stomped on the teenager's knee as hard as he could. The helot cried in pain. Percy growled, "Why shouldn't I? You tried killing the rightful king of Sparta."

"I'm sorry!" he cried. "I—I just wanted to be free. I'm sick and tired of my family being humiliated and slaughtered every year. I didn't really want the king dead. I wanted to send a message to say that we're people too!"

"Do it," Megapenthes said grimly. Percy turned to the king of Sparta. "Finish him. He'll feel all the misery he deserves in Hades' realm."

Percy raised Katoptris away from the helot's neck, ready to strike.

"Wait!" the helot screamed. "Wait! Please, son of Poseidon! Demigods together. I am a son of Apollo. I am good with a bow and arrow. Trust me! Look at my right hand. There are rope burn marks there where I practiced too intensely. You wield a bow. You can tell that I've been working with a bow and arrow. Please!"

"Don't trust him," Megapenthes said, his voice angrier and more confident. "He's lying."

Percy hesitated for a moment before stepping on the helot's left hand as hard as he could. Then, reaching with his opposing hand, he grabbed the helot's right hand. There were rope burn marks evidently on the helot's hand.

"How do I know they're not just rope burn from elsewhere?" Percy questioned, squishing the helot's hand to the ground.

"Argh!" the helot wailed in agony. "Mediterranean style! The three fingers in the middle. Perfect position. ARGH!"

Percy analyzed them closer and realized that they were, in fact, rope burns and blisters from working too hard at archery. How the helot managed to get his hands on a bow, Percy didn't know. What he did know was that the kid was telling the truth. He was practicing archery.

"Son of Apollo?"

"Yes!"

"Prove it!"

"I—I can't. You wouldn't let me."

The son of Poseidon growled, "Sing."

"What?"

"Sing!"

The helot began singing. Perfect pitch. Perfect notation. Flawless output. Excellent pacing and tempo. Great rhythm.

"What are you waiting for?!" Megapenthes roared. "Kill him! Don't make him sing!"

The crowd roared in agreement.

Percy glanced at Helen. She didn't say anything, but her lips were pressed so tightly against each other they were white. She didn't know what to do.

And neither did Percy.

On one hand, he had tried to kill the king of Sparta. On the other hand, he was just another human. He was a teenager, just like himself. Percy knew that Spartan training should have prepared him to never spare a human life in battle but he couldn't help himself. It was in his nature to feel sympathy toward other humans.

"Kill him!" Megapenthes and Nicostratus bellowed.

In the corner of his eye, Percy saw a flaming arrow fly into the sky just before the flame fizzed out and left a trail of smoke behind it as it fell. It almost represented—It was meant to…it should have represented a threat: the god Apollo would unleash his wrath upon Sparta after the death of his son.

But then a voice in Percy's head thundered, "End it!"

And Katoptris pierced the helot's head.

* * *

**Normally, I do author's notes at the beginning of chapters, but I'm experimenting with a different formula here. That's because I figure I should let you know what's going on _after_ you read the chapter so I don't spoil too much at the beginning. Anyway, this is a new story that I'm putting up for a test. I've just fancied the idea of Percy being in the ancient world, and I know that I've already done a story like this, but this story is much different than the "Everlasting Hero" series. This story is only going to be one story, if I decide to continue it all the way. This Percy will not be a famous hero known by all the gods and all the monsters. This Percy will not be the trainer of many heroes. In fact, he will never meet Chiron in this story, as a head's up. This Percy is much darker and much more willing to kill than the regular Percy and the Everlasting Hero Percy. He is raised as a Spartan in ancient society being the adopted son of Helen and Menelaus, as you've read. But things start to fall apart for him in the coming chapters. You just wait and watch.**

**I wanted to bring this Percy through a much different background. He won't have accomplished much more than the Percy in the "Everlasting Hero" series. But he will have a deep character that, if responds well with you guys, goes through many changes as he "comes of age." It's sort of like a coming of age tale, except with the fact that he's being controlled by gods.**

**So, I may or may not continue this, depending on its reception.**

**SharkAttack719 out ;)**


	2. Exiled

**Author'sNoteAtTheEnd**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Percy sat in his room in shock after the events at the party.

First, nearly the entire city of Sparta, and some guests from villages around, watched as a helot, a servant, attempted to murder the newly appointed King of Sparta. Second, the helot had pleaded for forgiveness, and Percy had almost listened to him. Third, he saw signs from the god Apollo, who would now probably work to make his life horrible. Fourth, he'd killed a helot at the feet of his step-brother, a King of Sparta.

It seemed oddly terrifying, as if killing was suddenly alien to him. Sure, it wasn't like he didn't have feelings…but he was a Spartan. Spartan's didn't spare lives whenever they felt pity for another human. They would recognized the unfairness, the unjust of the victim's life, but would not bow down to them.

And the weirdest feeling of all was the feeling of regret.

Spartans don't feel regret.

The moon shone high in the sky, and Percy could hear the lyres strumming from the courtyard out front. The entire city had gone forward, as if the death of a helot didn't matter to them, and began celebrating once again.

Percy held a glass of wine in his hands as he looked up into the sky.

Sighing in defeat, he placed the cup on the window's ledge. It was open, and he could have sneaked off if he wanted to, but there was a reason why it was always open. That temptation of leaving…Helen wanted Percy to control his emotions and desires. Percy knew it would be wrong to leave them like that, even when he felt resentful. It was a constant reminder for him to try and do what was best for, not his own interests, but the interests of others.

The thundering voice Percy had heard before he'd killed the helot was so powerful that it almost…almost felt like a god's voice. _Thundered_. It could have been Zeus, and it probably had been, but he couldn't understand why Zeus would be so enraged at the attempted murder of a simple King of Sparta.

Frowning, he knew that he would never admit that out loud to Megapenthes.

Yet there was something oddly aggravating about the voice. It sounded controlling, as if it were barking orders at a pet. For a second there, he almost felt divine hands force his own hand from staying.

Percy definitely knew the gods were real, being a son of a divinity himself, but he didn't know what they did in occupation. Did they argue? Did they have civilized conversations with one another? What the Hades did immortal divinities do in their spare time? Mate with mortals?

He remembered Philokrates telling him about Heracles and how the goddess Athena, companion of heroes, helped him on his journeys. Perhaps some gods and goddesses were more connected to the mortal world than most. Or perhaps it was only because of their domains.

He took the glass of wine and nearly inhaled the alcohol.

It wasn't anything special. He'd had wine for years now, ever since the Spartan Royal Guards told him getting drunk was the way to get closest to Dionysus when he was twelve. Yeah, twelve. It gave him that same familiar feeling it always did as it rushed down his throat, tickling it while rushing down into his stomach.

He set the glass back down on the window's ledge and made his way to the door, preparing to slam it shut, when suddenly Megapenthes appeared in the door frame with Iphiloche in his hands. She giggled as he nibbled at her neck affectionately.

Percy was about to shout "Go away!" and slam the door on Megapenthes' face, but it looked like the King of Sparta only needed to talk to him about something brief.

"Percy!" he said, evidently drunk. He was fondling with Iphiloche. It wasn't a sight Percy was exactly excited to watch.

"Megapenthes!" Percy cried back with sarcastic excitement. "It's so good to see you!"

"Just so you know, because I know you hate talking to me—" His words were slow and enounced with a slurring precision. "—Dad's funeral is starting tomorrow. We begin mourning by mid-day tomorrow. Twelve days they gave Paris…I mean Hector, and so we'll give Dad thirteen days! The festival on the last day. Can't wait for that."

Iphiloche looked excited under the touch of her new husband, but a part of her gaze was sorry. She was sorry about her terribly drunk husband.

"Of course," Percy muttered darkly. "Go and…do whatever newlywed couples do. Just make sure you're not screaming throughout the entire night. I actually want to get some rest."

"Tell that to the people celebrating downstairs," Nicostratus said, entering the conversation. "C'mon, Megapenthes. Percy needs his space. Go to your room."

"Whatever," the King of Sparta moaned. "Let's go, honey."

Then he and his wife strode down the hall to the king's sleep quarters. Percy heard a long, drawn out moan as they turned the corner.

"I'm sorry about that," Nicostratus apologized. "He's had far too much to drink. And then Hermione and Orestes are here, you know. She's about your age. Older maybe by a couple of years. It'd do you some good learning how women work. Besides, Orestes has had enough on his hands after he killed Neoptolemus."

"Oh, congratulations for him," Percy muttered unenthusiastically. "My parents' only daughter, legitimate daughter born when Helen was like twelve. Let's celebrate!"

Nicostratus shifted uncomfortably, clearly unused to the sarcastic jokes. "And Percy. I need to talk to about something. In private. Is it all right if I come in?" He gestured toward the room.

The son of Poseidon turned around and glanced inside his room. Everything was calm.

"Sure, why not?"

They stepped inside, and Nicostratus closed the door behind him.

Percy grabbed some animal adhesive and brought it to the window. Setting it on the ledge, he threw the empty cup to the ground. It shattered into pieces. Taking Katoptris, he sharpened the edges of the broken cup before gluing them onto his window's ledge.

Nicostratus stopped short when he saw his step-brother placing the pieces of the broken cup on the window's ledge. "What are you doing?"

Percy shrugged. "It'll cause a problem for anyone who tries to sneak in here through the window. I've also got a tripwire set up so they'll trigger the bucket that's hidden in the shadows to spray freezing cold water on top of them. I'll definitely wake up then so I can attack the intruder."

The son of Menelaus raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Sneaky. Not the…traditional Spartan way." Then he frowned. "But what if an admirer, or a lover, tries sneaking into here to see you. That wouldn't be the most pleasant of introductions."

Percy rolled his eyes. "What is with you and trying to set me up with girls? Okay, I get that you want to be supportive and all, but I'll go there when I'm—ready." He hesitated. Nothing against girls, because he would thoroughly enjoy any experience at the moment, but he's more of the _come-to-me_ kind of guy. His face twisted at the thought of that. "And you know me. I'm not…normal, as you might say. I'm unorthodox in everything I do. I don't approach. I wait for the right one to approach me."

Nicostratus grimaced and slowly walked toward the window, his hands intertwined behind his back. He made sure to clearly avoid the tripwire. "Your unorthodox style… That's what worries me."

Percy slowly moved toward his own bed. "What do you mean 'That's what worries me?'"

"Percy, as much as you may not like it, you are next in line for the throne for king, assuming that Megapenthes dies of natural causes," Nicostratus announced.

_There's no way he's being serious,_ Percy thought.

And he began laughing.

At first, the laugh was uncertain, but the more he seemed to grasp that ridiculous idea, the easier it was to laugh. He laughed hard until Nicostratus stopped him with an effective punch to the gut. It knocked the wind out of him, and he had to fall to a sitting position to catch his breath.

"I'm being serious," the younger full-brother of Megapenthes said, his voice straining. "I am not well outspoken. My brother's head does not equate to mine, so we share the power. I make decisions I like, he gets the glory. The only time when I speak clearly to a crowd is when I truly believe something completely. When my entire heart's content is set on it."

"Like when you told me to kill that helot?" Percy reminded him grimly.

Nicostratus' face went red. "That was different. That was law. You deserve execution for attacking the king." Then he took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. "And that is where we get to your problem. You have been going to training school since you were seven. You are taught the ways of a Spartan, to be loyal and ruthless in battle. You are taught to kill without hesitation because you know the other man wishes to die for his pride, honour and people. You are taught to strike fear in your opponents and are taught to never let fear strike you. You are taught to follow the rules of the Myrmidons, more unnerving in battle than any other group of armed forces this world has ever seen. They, alone, nearly managed to storm through the gates of Troy to burn it to the ground had it not been for my uncle's stupidity and pride. But you show hesitation to kill. You have been training for half of your life. You should _not_ show hesitation to kill."

Percy scowled. "He's another human—"

"Justice is unfair," Nicostratus said, cutting him off, "in fact, the entirety of life is unfair, but we must make the best of what we have. Those who go to Elysium aren't necessarily those who make the kind choices all the time but those who make the merciful choice when it truly matters. We may worship Ares, but Spartans know wisdom when it hits them."

"Unless they're too stupid to even comprehend what the word wisdom means," Percy added in sarcastically. "I don't see why Athena likes Athens. There's too much…inequality there. Sure, it may be a beacon of hope for the most intelligent city-state in all of Hellas, but can't the virgin goddess see young maidens having no rights?"

"Percy—"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Life isn't fair."

Nicostratus sighed and looked out of the window. "Sometimes I feel like escaping, too. I want to just be free of responsibility and free of being royalty. But those days wouldn't last. I mean, what would I do? Being royal is the best thing we've got."

Percy shook his head. "Not for me. I'm a demigod, which means my life is ten times as hard as yours is. I get attacked by monsters constantly, freaking out the rest of the class when all they can see is a morphed version of the truth. I know our family has the gift of seeing through the Mist, but others are more fortunate than us."

The Mist. It was such a mysterious name for a magic so mysterious. The Mist was practically a veil that obscured normal mortals to be able to see into the demigod world. It was thin and often lifted, but to the children, the teenagers, it was still there. They were fortunate enough to not be able to see the horrible monsters that attacked him day in and day out.

The only reason Megapenthes and Nicostratus could see them was because their paternal line came from Zeus. Their father's father's father's father was Tantalus, the eternally damned spirit that could not drink nor eat despite the water at his feet and the food above his reach. Being descendants of a god, they could see through the Mist with hardly any problem. Even Helen could see through the Mist being a daughter of Zeus herself.

Of course, his mother _has_ to be the most beautiful woman on the planet. And she _has_ to be a daughter of Zeus. And she _absolutely has_ to be his adoptive mother.

He remembered Nicostratus trying to make him go after Hermione for a girl. If anything, Percy felt more inclined to ask his own mother. Not by any standards did he expect that he would ever try to couple with his mother because their mother-son relationship had skyrocketed over the past couple of years, but it wasn't to say he wasn't at least slightly attracted to her.

He knew what others would say. He knew what they would mock him for. But he didn't care. Imagine having the prettiest woman on Gaea as your mother. Then imagine being a teenage boy with raging emotions and feelings swirling inside like hurricanes of libido. Or imagine being a mortal girl, a demigod girl, a nymph, or whatever, and looking at Heracles.

There might not be love, but there _has_ to be some attraction.

It was almost as if his dangerous demigod life, which he was now accustomed to, were trying to force him into making decisions before he was mature enough to handle them. It was almost as if he was serving the Olympians as their pawn, so he would have to make the best of his moves until they put him up for the kill.

"Percy, being in line for the Spartan throne is a big deal," Nicostratus said, stressing on _'big deal_._'_

"It's _not_ a big deal, not to me."

Nicostratus stuck up his chest proudly. "You would make a _great_ king."

Percy shook his head. "I would need a really smart wife."

"Then look for one!" Nicostratus exclaimed profoundly and in exasperation.

Percy halted to collect his words. "I—I'm not ready!"

"You are nearly sixteen. You _are_ ready. I believe in you."

His face contorted into one of frustration and anger. "I hate all of this pressure that's on me! It's like I'm trying to hold up the weight of the sky. You know what, Nico? I don't want to be some pawn of the Olympians. I don't want to save the world from impending doom because I _know_ I'll screw it up somehow. I'll cave in at the last moment and all this _crap_ will come raining down on me from the sky like magical rain that smells like a horse's ass!"

"Percy—"

"Get out of here, now!" Percy shouted. He stormed up to the opposite wall and pulled the bow off of the hook. He grabbed and arrow and pointed at Nicostratus, threatening him. "Get out before I shoot you through your stupid head!"

Nicostratus' nostrils flared, and Percy nocked the arrow.

For a second, Percy thought he would attack him, but the anger subsided in Nicostratus' eyes. He exhaled calmly and slowly before backing up slowly until he made it to the door. There was a look of utter disappointment in his eyes as he watched Percy. Then he slid out of the room and all was quiet once again.

Percy was on the verge of breaking down into a hot fury of tormenting anger. He felt like a torrent or a hurricane, ready to swoop down to destroy everything in a giant circle of widespread damage. The pounding of his heartbeat felt like waves pounding against the shore, rushing in and rushing out with about as much certainty as Percy had about his feelings.

Some but none. That's a good way to put it.

Percy lay down in his bed and stared up at the ceiling. It was fairly empty. Percy had basically torn all of the jewels from the ceiling and stashed them up in a secret spot he'd created in his room. That way, no one would be able to find them, and if he was in a state of emergency, he still had jewels that he could sell for a fairly decent price.

He sighed as the memory of the dagger strapped to his belt entered the helot's head. He remembered the quick but rough entrance of the knife as it pierced the boy's brain. He remembered the gore that came with the wound. He remembered the Spartans throwing away the corpse as if it were worthless waste.

The door swung open, and Helen poked her head into the room.

"Are you going to bed, Percy?" she asked.

He shrugged, unsure. "I don't know. Maybe but it's kind of loud. I'm not sure if I _can_ sleep."

Helen smiled softly, a sad look of incomprehensible reason in her eyes. "Well, have a good night. Tomorrow you are free to go hunting. But stay near Sparta. Don't wander too far off. You must be back for the beginning of the funeral."

"All right, mother," Percy answered.

"Good Nyx."

After muttering her last words of the day, she squeezed her head back out of the room and allowed the door to swing closed.

Percy fell to the bed, exhausted after the long, grueling day. His head collided violently with the mattress, bouncing up and down as the impact tried to cushion itself.

He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. He waited for a long time before the noise of the celebration began to be a rhythmic buzzing in his ears, like a comforting lullaby luring him to a deep slumber. He began nodding off, his breath slowing down to a crawling pace. His heart rate slowed down, and for a moment, everything was peaceful.

His imagination began to wander as Morpheus tried reaching out to him. He could almost feel his cold, harsh fingers touching his hair, reaching further for his head and even further into his mind, and the darkness was about to consume him until the door of his room swung open.

"Oh my gods!" he shouted, angry that he was bothered just as he was about to fall asleep. "Who in Poseidon's name just walked in—" He cut himself off when he saw who entered. He sat up on his elbows. "Um, what are you doing here?"

Sophia frowned, as if she was surprised at his sudden rudeness. "I'm sorry, Percy. I didn't know you were going to bed."

He sighed and leaned back against the headboard. "Sorry I snapped at you. I'm just—I wanted to sleep." He cast a meaningful glance at her. "So, what brings you here?"

Percy knew it wasn't uncommon for visitors to visit his room, as he was the famed adopted son of Sparta, but sometimes he wished they would just go away. Fortunately, Sophia was a friend—a really pretty friend—so it didn't bother him as much as it probably should have. If there was such a thing as a masculinity-femininity scale in Sparta, he was sure that he was closer to the feminine side. He enjoyed the things they talked about more, the fact that they didn't like the prospect of marrying a man a decade older, but he also liked the fact that they did speak about wishing to join the army.

Percy knew he could kill without fear or hesitation, but he also wanted to be kinder. It was an odd paradox for a prince who was raised his whole life in Sparta. Besides, he knew that all gods and goddesses should be respected, not just the ones that seem more important.

It was fair, just, and in some cases undoubtedly cruel.

He would be destroying tradition. Marrying someone your own age? That was about as common as wimpy Spartans. Percy knew he didn't want to wait until thirty to marry. He wanted to marry somewhere in between.

Shaking his thoughts away, he clenched the dagger that was strapped to his side.

"Well," Sophia started, "I just wanted to come and talk to you."

"Why not the other guys?" he asked.

She shrugged. "They don't interest me. Sure, being a part of the army and fighting with weapons is really cool and really…Spartan, I also like men who have both a passion for war and a passion for love. Isn't that what they always say? Love and war go together?"

Percy gave her a grin. "That's why Aphrodite always cheats on Hephaestus with Ares."

They laughed a little, relieving a little of the previous tension.

Percy thought it was nice to talk to someone his own age, as introverted as he was. He was pretty sure that Sophia had wanted to talk to him earlier, because what other reason would she be behind him when Philokrates pushed him back and what other reason would she come to his room. He got a strange feeling that she was attracted to him.

"So just talk?" he asked.

"Well…" She fidgeted a little before striding across the room to the bed. She sat down next to him. "I heard a rumor that…uh, nevermind."

Percy frowned. "What did you want to say?"

"Nothing," she said quickly.

He pursed his lips. "You don't have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable. It would just help our situation a lot if you did."

She bit her lip and nodded. "Well, I'm also wondering…" She gave him a shy look. "I…well, I'm more like admitting that, um, I—uh, do you like me?"

Percy gave her a cautious look, the meaning beginning to dawn in his head. "What do you mean?"

Sophia's face flushed red. "I—uh…I mean, you know—Do you need to go to the toilet?" Her face was extremely red now, embarrassment shining on her cheeks.

He couldn't help but grin at her. "No, I don't. I'm fine. But why don't you go and wash yourself up a little. You look like a burning fire."

She swallowed and took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down. Percy pulled himself over to sit right next to her. Their arms touched, and Sophia shivered. She looked really nervous, as if his presence was already too much for her. Percy guessed what she was thinking and what she had to say.

Sophia spoke before he could. "Like you said earlier, I'm coming up on marriage in a couple of years, and I want to feel ready."

His grin faltered a little. Even though he knew it was coming, the whole idea of "breaking in" was fairly absurd. "Shouldn't your husband be that one for you?"

She flushed but stayed silent.

"I mean, you're pretty and all, but that should be your husband's job, you know," he told her. "I guess that's what's normal for an average Spartan citizen."

"What if I don't want to be normal?" she asked.

Percy turned and looked straight at Sophia. Her dark eyes swirled with uncertainty. He couldn't bring himself to move. He couldn't back away from her. He couldn't approach any closer. "Why not Alexander? He's already had some experience. And I thought you said only your husband would have sex with you?"

Sophia leaned closer to him, though he couldn't tell if on purpose or subconsciously. Her hand was on his thigh, ever so slowly grazing toward the inner side. She couldn't stop staring at him. "That's exactly why I came to you." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Sophia, I can't," he told her hoarsely, his voice getting caught in his throat. "You can't just…what if you get pregnant? We can't…that wouldn't be good."

But he didn't stop himself from kissing her.

Something exploded in his chest as she leaned forward onto him. Immediately, his hands seemed to uproot themselves from the bed and made their way to her waist. He couldn't help but notice she was particularly strong in her abdomen. Their lips disconnected after a while, err, at least it _had_ to be a while. He was out of breath.

"I think it's a pity that they don't let you join the army," he muttered.

"I think it's a pity that they don't let you marry until you're thirty," she murmured back.

He could feel her warm breath on his skin. She smelled like olive oil.

This time, he initiated and leaned forward toward her. He could feel her hands exploring, trailing along his arms, to the back of his neck, up into his hair, before sliding down his sides. His lower body began tightening.

"Why me of all people?" he asked when they broke apart again.

"Because you're really cute," she answered.

Then Sophia practically launched herself at him, and his mind's senses seemed to dull. He was fully aware that something warm was pressed against his body, and the warm air being blown at his face. He was fully aware of the intimacy and the…closeness of him and another woman. A feeling in his stomach seemed to leap up into his brain to take the controls. His hands trailed wildly wherever he seemed to please.

"I want you," Sophia said through pressed lips. She pulled him close and kissed him roughly, as if it was the last day on Gaea.

A leg swung over his chest and a pair of strong, muscular thighs clenched his chest together. The legs were toned, fit and scarred. There were training wounds—scars—that ran down her legs.

The moonlight seemed to dim as he became aware of the sudden privacy he was invading on. He stopped, lying on the bed flatly. All of the pent up excitement seemed to be shoved behind him as he exhaled deeply.

"Sophia," he grunted, still feeling wild, "are you completely sure? You don't want to save this for…until another time?"

"If I can't marry whom I love, I must at least…do this with the one I love," she said intensely. Her legs seemed to clamp even tighter on his sides. "I promise. I won't be disappointed when you leave. I won't regret letting you go. I want this one memory of my teenage years to stick. So I can remember our friendship."

She leaned down and kissed him again, her mouth desperately searching for the love she wanted…that she needed.

Percy gently pushed her away by her shoulders. "We're hardly friends."

"In my mind, we are," she said.

And the only things he could remember were a flip, gentle words, a muffled scream, and then darkness.

* * *

Percy woke to a knocking on his door.

Flipping over, he looked at the spot that Sophia had occupied just fourteen days before.

The funeral for Menelaus was over, and the day of festivities was complete. Now, life would go back normal…well, as normal as it was _before_ Menelaus died. At least, that's what Percy thought.

As he put his _chiton_ on, he couldn't help but look down at himself.

Ever since the night when Sophia told him she loved him, he'd felt uncomfortable in his own body. He couldn't help but feel partially embarrassed and partially ecstatic. It was a rather delicate situation in which he felt honoured to have one of the most beautiful looking girls of his age group in all of Sparta be in love with him. But it was rather terrifying with the fact that he was always so hesitant…so uncomfortable to be with her.

To be honest, he wasn't in love with her. He felt no true attraction to her other than to her personality and her body.

Despite that, his heart leaped every time he saw her.

Someone knocked on the door again. Percy made his way over and opened it. A flushed-faced Nicostratus opened the door. He looked as though he'd run all the way from the edge of town.

"Nicostratus," Percy greeted simply. "What do you need me for?"

"Megapenthes—we're…" Nicostratus stopped to catch his breath. "He's decided that…that, well, you should come and see for yourself. I know you would want to be there. It might be the only chance you'll ever…come on!"

Worriedly, Percy dashed for his belt, Katoptris, his reflex bow and his quiver. Strapping them all on, he nodded at Nicostratus to lead the way.

The son of Menelaus led Percy down to the courtyard. And only to the courtyard. There, Megapenthes was standing in front of the entire city of Sparta. Many looked hung-over but even more looked attentive, as if they had a suspicion to what the rumors were.

There was a sinking feeling in Percy as he slowed up. Nicostratus went up to his brother, pointed at Percy, and then went to stand by his side, exactly where he'd stood day ago when bringing news of his father's passing. Percy noticed that Helen wasn't there. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he shoved the feeling to the deepest depths of his subconscious mind.

He walked up to Megapenthes' side. "Where's Mother? And your wife, Iphiloche?"

Megapethes gave him a look he dreaded. It was somewhere between confusion and disbelieving. "Nicostratus has not told you?"

"What's happening?" Percy demanded.

"Bring her out!" he ordered.

Stunned, Percy turned around and saw a heavily beat up Helen being carried out by helots. She was cuffed in bronze chains, her hands behind her back. Her legs were also entangled, and her feet were bare, so anything sharp she stepped on would immediately pierce the sole of her foot. Her beautiful hair was tossed aside in a wild mess, and her face was now marred with scars from the usage of whips and…and bruises from what seemed to be either rough kissing or punches to the face.

"Citizens of Sparta!" Megapenthes announced. "The former queen of Sparta, Helen, has, as you all know, betrayed us in leaving for Troy with her lover, Paris of Troy. Then she returned, when her husband was dead, pleading forgiveness from my father. Desperately in love, he accepted it, but deep down in his heart, I know he would want this. My father would desire revenge on the woman who had left her."

"You don't know your father, then," Helen bitterly spat.

Nicostratus strode over to her and punched her across the face. The crowd roared with thundering approval.

A welling of protection surged in Percy's chest as he shouted, "What are you doing?"

"Justice, my brother," Megapenthes told him, loud enough so that everyone could hear her. "You know that first hand. The helot that you killed in my honour…I can never thank you enough for that, my bro—"

"In your honour?" Percy roared. "I didn't do that in your honour! I did that because…because it was the right thing to do. Now, this?! This is madness!"

There was a tense silence for a moment. "Madness?" Megapenthes questioned, looking up and down the teenage boy. "This! Is! Sparta!" He hefted his spear, and the entire crowd roared in an elated cheering.

"No, this is unfair!" he argued in the same dramatic voice.

"She betrayed us!" the king fought back.

"She's my mother!"

"She was there for only about five years of your life!"

"She was _willing_ to take me in!"

"And so would have anyone else. Percy, you are next in line to be King of Sparta. Imagine that great honour of being King of Sparta! You would bring great power and wealth to your descendants. You would become the best king this world has ever seen!"

Percy sneered. "You think this will make me tolerate you? For years we argued, and you decide to kill the only family I have left?"

"We _are_ your family, Percy—"

"No, you're not! I have never been more ashamed to be Spartan."

The declaration was so outspoken, so strongly emphasized, put together so well, that every Spartan that could hear him dropped their heads in shame. But they recovered quickly. They were Spartans. They did not feel shame.

But the words stung.

"This is what we need," Nicostratus told Percy. "With you as king, no one will dare to threaten Sparta."

"Oh, so this is what it's about," growled the son of Poseidon. "You want to use me just because I'm a threatening demigod. You're using me to protect the city-state that the house of Tantalus…house of Atreus, helped to build so well. With King Orestes in Mycenae, and me here, we would be unstoppable, right?"

"Percy, that's not what I meant!"

"Of course not." Percy was furious now. He almost felt like snapping his bow into two pieces. Then he stepped forward, his arms extended in front of him. "I love Sparta, but if Helen goes, I go as well."

Nicostratus and Megapenthes both paled. Percy could tell they were thinking about whether he would ever come back to haunt them…to kill them. The right decision for the city was the wrong decision for their next heir.

"What about your friends and family here? Your life as a warrior?" Megapenthes argued. "Those whom you love?"

Percy mind immediately lingered to Sophia. Glancing out into the crowd, he spotted her with her group of friends. They were all staring at him, as if he was crazy. Only Sophia looked different. She looked…understanding.

"Anyone in Sparta that I love will understand my decision," Percy answered back. "But isn't that what Spartan's aren't supposed to show in public? Frail, brittle emotions? I…I love Sparta with all my heart. The combat, the fighting…I'll never get used to _not_ fighting. But everyone must know that my family comes first before anything."

For a few seconds, everything was silent. Percy could hear the birds chirping.

Then, someone in the crowd yelled, "Traitor!"

The rest of the crowd lit up with angry responses. They dared to take a step closer. The Spartan Royal Guard didn't take any step closer to protect him.

Megapenthes looked downright furious. He looked betrayed. And most of all, he looked embarrassed.

"To be related to a scum like you," growled the King of Sparta.

His hand came like an axe, and Percy stumbled to the side, clutching his face in complete shock. Only then did the Spartan Royal Guard move. They held bronze chains, and Philokrates' pained face appeared in Percy's vision. Tied behind his back, Percy's hands squirmed for freedom. He stared in horror at Philokrates as the Spartan pushed him down, treating him like a helot.

"You are disowned, Perseus…of _Athens_," Megapenthes sneered, saying Athens like an insult.

Suddenly, somebody yanked on his chains, and he was forced up onto his feet. The anger washed on him slowly, like a damp, warm cloth to wipe the dirt and grime from his face. When it reached its breaking point, it exploded in a fury of ferocity.

The fountain in the courtyard exploded, sending parts of a marble statue of Ares flying into the crowd. Some were injured, perhaps some had died under the weight of the broken pieces of the statue. Nearly everyone was doused in water.

By the time Percy reached the docks of Argos, he was suffering the same fate as Helen: bruises and cuts all over his face.

The citizens of Sparta hated traitors. And they were living proof of that.

They were tossed onto a boat. Son faced mother through swollen eyes. Percy could've sworn it was raining in the cloudless night sky.

"Where do the Fates take us now, mother?" he asked, his voice cracking and low.

"Rhodes, my dear," she whispered. "Rhodes."

And Percy swore he would get his revenge on Sparta, no matter the cost.

* * *

**Heyo! SharkAttack here hoping everyone here is having a good weekend, though it may soon be coming to an end...or if you don't read this until the middle of the week, well...yeah. Anyway, I hope that you're all enjoying this story. This is just one way I am approaching this story. This will lead to something new, and the last line of the chapter can sprout in many different directions. That's where I need your help!**

**Everyone reading this! Send a review, regardless if you have an account or not, about what you think will happen during the story. Think about the position Percy is in. There WILL be gods and goddesses appearing, so if your version of my story includes them, INCLUDE THEM! I really want to know where you guys think I should be going in this story because I don't want to make something all of you hate. I promise you, though, that I will turn your suggestions into something I LIKE so I actually enjoy writing this.**

**So, I hope you're enjoying reading Percy's descent into Hel and the destruction of the Greeks in Midgard! Sorry, been reading a little Norse mythology (not going to include that in this story), and I must say, it is rather fascinating. I'm sure you all know Anaklusmos14 and his Norse story, so yeah.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading,  
SharkAttack719**

**P.S. Yes, Percy's no longer a virgin. Woop-dee-fucking-doo. Not such a big deal cuz kids in Greek mythology may have affairs at the age of thirteen or fourteen. Percy's fifteen coming up on sixteen, so if you don't like it, you don't have to read it.**


	3. Alone

******Author'sNoteAtTheEnd**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Percy rubbed his hands, getting used to not having chains bound to them. They had taken the long route to Rhodes. They passed by Athens on the way, going up to Iolcus, the place of Jason's birth, then down to Crete before making one last stop at Salamis. Rhodes was the final destination.

And it was only then that the chains were taken off of them.

Percy didn't know why they went to Salamis _after_ Crete, because Salamis was closer to the Hellenic mainland than Crete was. But he shook off the soreness in the muscles all over his body, shoving the thought into the back of his mind.

Rhodes was a rather interesting island. The entire thing was shaped like a spearhead when mapped out. When standing at the harbour, he could see the distant but close lands of Anatolia, lands named Doris and Lycia. They were only a few days south of the region of Troad where the fallen city of Troy once stood. The further into the mainland that they got, the rockier the terrain became. The interior of Rhodes was mountainous, though there were a few stretches of land that citrus fruit, wine grapes, vegetables, olives and other crops grew. It was sparsely inhabited and was covered with forests of pine and cypress. The shores were somewhere in between; half of the island's coasts were rocky, the other half habitable.

The whole island was ruled by Queen Polyxo. On the northern tip of the island, in the city of Rhodes, a gleaming palace stood, walls of fortifications surrounding it. It was unlike Sparta, in which the entire city was blockaded from outside contact. It seemed as though Rhodes was willing to allow their citizens to die.

Queen Polyxo was an Argive by descent. Percy didn't know much else about her lineage aside from the fact that she was completely mortal.

On the way to Rhodes, Helen had explained more about Katoptris. The blade wasn't made of just any regular bronze. It was crafted from Celestial bronze, a magical material mined straight from Mount Olympus itself. The Mist obscured mortals from seeing its true form, much like it hid the monsters. Also, its magical material deemed mortals not important enough to kill, and the blade could pass right through any mortal like an illusion.

In any case, Polyxo had believed that Katoptris was a kitchen knife, and believed that it was a third of its actual size. When he stabbed Polyxo from behind (No one was looking!), it passed right through her.

He wished he could have a weapon that could harm mortals as well. Just in case.

Polyxo's former husband was Tlepolemus. Whenever Queen Polyxo spoke about him, she glanced distastefully at Helen, who didn't seem to notice.

Tlepolemus was apparently a son of Heracles and was apparently slain by Sarpedon, son of Zeus, in the ninth year of battle. He was the leader of the Rhodian forces in the Trojan War and died fighting for his country. He had fled to Rhodes after slaying Licymnius, Heracles' aged maternal uncle. It was an accident, but he was exiled anyway. Polyxo accompanied him, and together, they ruled Rhodes.

Percy had no idea what to think of that. Sure, he'd been told amazing things about Heracles, but if the stories were true, the only reason he was strong was because he'd suckled on Hera's breast milk. It was godly, so it gave him god-like powers. If that was so, he wouldn't have been anything special without it. He would have just been another son of Zeus whose name would have faded in the background of history.

In Percy's eyes, the only hero who was worth the attention was Perseus.

Perseus was the very first hero. He was the very first one to conquer a true monster: Medusa. He managed to save Andromeda from the terrible sea monster that Percy's father had sent after her to kill her and eventually married her. He'd died happy. No other hero had done so. Of course, his mortal line led down to Heracles' mother, Alcmene. In that very regard, Heracles was not only a son of Zeus but a descendant of Zeus as well.

Other than that, other heroes weren't great, perhaps even Heracles. They'd betrayed the women that had fallen in love with them. Legend had it that Heracles' first family was killed when Hera induced his violent rampage, not because he wanted to betray them. Still, there was just something about Heracles' legend that made him feel uncomfortable… unsettled.

Achilles also seemed like a pretty great warrior, but his arrogance and pride was his downfall. Percy didn't like arrogance.

His whole body shook as he thought about Megapenthes and Nicostratus. He wished he could strangle them with his bare hands. He wished he could cut their feet off and force them to crawl on piles of heated coal. A million punishments swirled through his mind, like he was the creator of the Fields of Punishment. How dare they decide to exile Helen! How dare they refuse to forgive! How dare they refuse to forget their pride!

He thought of painful torturing devices to use on them to see the anger and pain that they caused him and Helen.

_You can't capture and torture everyone in battle_. Philokrates' advice echoed in his mind. _Killing is a part of being Spartan._

That was the problem.

Percy didn't want to be Spartan. He didn't _necessarily_ want to capture and torture everyone in battle. It is a psychological effect, and in the right situations, can make them suffer in wailing agony. In battle, when a general or royal is captured, they can be tortured, forced to feed them information. If the enemy is allowed to hear it, it will provoke them to either attack or surrender. They will not execute a plan in between. Public torturing can instill fear or anger into those close to the victim.

Percy wanted the Spartans to fear him, fear his power. He wanted them to bow down before him right before he appointed a new king and left. He wanted nothing to do with Sparta ever again. Spartans disgusted him.

The anger he felt toward them was so great that the same thoughts repeated themselves in his mind over and over again. And they didn't sound repetitive. In fact, the longer he listened to them, the more eager he was to get on with his plan.

Percy and Helen were in Polyxo's guestroom, woven beds on either side of the room. They had no belongings with them. All Percy had was his bow, quiver (now full of blunted arrows), Katoptris and one _chiton_. They'd just finished eating dinner.

"Percy, don't think those thoughts," Helen said from her bed.

He looked up in surprise. "How did you know—?"

"I've watched you every moment of every day ever since I came back from Troy," she said softly. "I know you very well, Percy. We're close, even when it seems we're not."

Percy sighed and flopped back on his bed. There was a pile of cloths for his head to lie on. "_You're_ my only family. Whatever was back in Sparta is not my family anymore. You can't blame me for having thoughts of revenge. They wanted to exile you!"

"And they had every right to," Helen said again, her voice as brittle as that rare material called glass. "I betrayed them. I joined the Trojans. I had an affair with Paris, prince of Troy. They have every single Spartan right to exile me. It is the end of the Spartan royal line."

"Don't say that!" Percy snapped, shooting back up into a sitting position. "You're brave, beautiful and courageous. You were following your heart!"

"Which is not what Greeks do," replied the former Queen of Sparta. "Greeks marry for wealth and for power. They marry for looks and lust. Seldom do you see a couple who love each other in true love. I thought…I thought that was what I was doing with Paris—he was supposed to be my true love. But in Troy, I learned through Katoptris that I was just the most recent of many. He'd had a wife before. He'd had many affairs. He only wanted me because I was the most beautiful woman on Gaea."

"Looks like Eros took your heart and played with it, like a game," Percy snorted.

"I suppose so," she sighed sadly.

Percy stood up from his bed and strode over to her bed, sitting at her side. He put a hand on her shoulder. They sat there for a few silent moments.

Percy thought about everything that Helen had gone through. Trying to make the least unbiased story he could, he remembered that she was a daughter of Zeus, but didn't possess the powers of one. He remembered Castor and Polydeuces, the latter being a son of Zeus. Polydeuces and Helen weren't true heirs to the Spartan throne. Castor and Clytemnestra were. They were the children of Tyndareus. Then, Menelaus had married her. She hadn't consented. She was thrust into a loveless marriage. But then, just as she was warming up to him, she met Paris, an attractive, younger man from foreign lands. She left out of "love." Then she returned to Menelaus, confused about her feelings. Now…now her fate was determined. Megapenthes and Nicostratus, sons of Menelaus, had exiled her.

Looking at her, Percy remembered the day of the exile. She had been bruised on her face, as if she'd been punched…or roughly kissed. There was a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach.

"What happened the day you got exiled?" Percy asked. "Your face…it was brutal, like you'd been—been roughly kissed."

Helen looked away.

"Mom," he prodded carefully. "What happened?"

He noticed she was looking out at the stars. He could see the constellation Leo, the Nemean Lion, a beast killed by Heracles.

"Seriously, mom," Percy insisted. "If there's something wrong, you can tell me. We're family. I came here for you. Whatever happened…well, there's nothing to be ashamed about."

"Megapenthes raped me."

Percy had expected a sudden shout, or an irritated growl. He had expected her to be angry with him, trying to push the embarrassment and shame to the back of her mind. He _should_ have expected what really happened. Despite being a prideful daughter of Zeus, she was surprisingly soft and feminine. Her exclamation was soft, and Percy could barely hear it.

When he did hear it, it took him a couple of moments to process what she said. She looked afraid, as if she was wary of his answer.

"Megapenthes what?" Percy's voice was steely and cold.

"He raped me, if you must know."

Percy stood up suddenly. He was furious. No words were spoken between the two of them, but the anger was evidently present. The tension in the air was more than enough for Helen to know her companion was mad.

Percy turned angrily and punched the wall as hard as he could. Screaming a string of curses, he clutched his hand in agony. The stone wall didn't break. Percy could almost _feel_ the broken bones in his hand. But he still knew they were probably broken. His hand was bleeding as well.

Wincing, Helen stood up calmly and brought the large pot of water out of the corner of the room. The opening in the top was large enough for Percy to fit his hand in. The only thing would be that the water could not be used for drinking anymore. She held it on her lap as Percy jammed his hand in. His face slowly relaxed, transitioning from a contorting pain back to normal.

"You need to control your anger, Percy," Helen said wisely.

"He—he…" Percy couldn't constrain the anger he was feeling. It poured out like a waterfall, roaring in his ears so he wouldn't be able to hear common sense. But that anger rendered him speechless. All he could do was stutter and gesture in anger.

Helen stood back up and placed the pot of water back into the corner of the room when Percy took his hand out.

"Yes, he did," Helen muttered bitterly. "But it's not like anyone cares. It's normal for women to be raped."

Shaking his head in anger, Percy growled, "I swear I will tear Megapenthes and Nicostratus into a thousand pieces, like Kronos to his father and Zeus to Kronos. Sparta will never see the light of day ever again."

"Percy, please don't act rashly," Helen said in a resigned tone. "Do not make the mistakes that I did when I was younger. I have brought shame to my family and my legacy because of my foolish decision. I need not tell you again that I was blinded into—"

"Loving Paris, I know," Percy replied irritably. "Let's just…Let's just get some rest. I have a bad feeling about the near future."

He turned to head to his bed, but Helen grabbed his wrist, making him turn back to her. There was a mysterious look in her eyes. Even though she was only thirty years old, she had seen much loss, grief and terror in her life. Percy wouldn't be surprised if something bad happened to her soon.

"Demigods usually die young," Helen said grimly. "It's usually the weaker ones that survive, the demigods with a lesser scent."

"All right," Percy responded cautiously, not trying to anger the former Queen of Sparta and not quite understanding of where she wanted to go with this.

"I—I couldn't take it if you were taken from me, Percy," she said. Her eyes were getting teary. "I wouldn't be able to survive without you. I—I'm a traitor to Sparta, to Hellas. Everyone will hunt me down for betraying the land. I will be forever known as Helen of Troy. Traitors…traitors aren't taken so lightly."

"I—I know, mom. I know."

She shook her head as she pulled him down to her bed. "Don't call me mother. That title died with our other titles in our exile."

"But you adopted me." Percy's head rang. He felt numb. Was Helen saying she didn't want to be his mother? "Tyndareus gave you to me to raise. You—you were fourteen when I was born. That's the normal age of marriage for women."

"We're not related by blood," she hissed.

Percy suddenly found himself with his back pressed on Helen's bed. The daughter of Zeus and Leda was hovering over top of him. He could feel her legs on either side of his abdomen. She was leaning down toward him. He suddenly felt warm.

Percy couldn't help but notice Helen's nearly flawless face. It was all natural. It was the first time that Percy saw Helen's true eye colour. They were electric blue, like the colour of lightning. Percy suddenly felt like his body was buzzing. Helen was very, very beautiful. Her eyes were like pools of spring water…they dazzled in the sudden darkness.

And before he knew what was happening, he was kissing his mother.

Her lips were warm and tender, so unlike a Spartan. His hands clenched her hips tightly, and she melted into his body. The fabrics touching their bodies as they got closer and closer seemed to impede against the warmth of their bodies. Helen's delicate arms, previously wrapped around him, suddenly disappeared.

In the heat of the moment, his eyes were closed, and the next thing he could hear was the tearing of fabric. The same delicate hands that caressed him worked to roughly tear the _chiton_ off his body. There was the inner Spartan.

A rush of cold air passed over his bare body for a moment. Then a warm figure pressed up against him. Percy's mind lost control as the fluids flowing inside of him rushed downwards. A large wool blanket was pulled over them as their bodies connected.

And until now, Percy never appreciated how beautiful Helen, daughter of Zeus, was.

* * *

Five weeks passed, and Percy's woven bed had only been used for three-quarters of that time.

He was running through the woods, on his way back from _Limni Fragmatos Gadoura_, a lake on the southern side of the island. A horde of rogue hellhounds had decided to attack him while he was bathing, so he made a break for it. The only Celestial bronze weapon he had was Katoptris, and that wouldn't be enough. His arrows were all made of mortal steel. Too bad mortal weapons didn't work on monsters, because from personal experience, it would come in handy.

It was mid day, Helios basking in the glory of his light. And something felt off, as if a part of him had died.

It was an odd feeling really.

Then there was Helen. Percy knew what he was doing…well, he probably shouldn't have been doing that. Was he just going to sleep with women before breaking their hearts and leaving them? Was he going to become a "hero?" Or was his life going to be a continuous cycle? Have sex with women before leaving them for a personal reason.

The city of Rhodes was oddly quiet when he arrived.

The guards at the gate of the walls looked plenty worried when they saw him approach the inland gates of Rhodes. Percy noticed a few of them looking at each other in distress. Their mouths moved, forming words he couldn't hear. Some even looked fearful. Looking down, Percy figured that it was the wickedly sharp half Celestial bronze half mortal bronze blade strapped to his side.

It had been so long since he and Helen had been exiled that it was the anniversary of his birth today. In the early morning, he'd received this present from Poseidon. He said that it was a sword with a terrible past, its previous owner losing it a generation ago. It was Percy's destiny to find out the magical properties it encompassed.

Percy had no idea what that meant, but he figured it had something to do with the Celestial bronze. Poseidon had also incorporated a fishy line at the end. He said, _Enjoy your life no matter how long it is._

Why would Poseidon only put the option of long? Why not short? Percy figured it had something to do with demigods living shorter-than-average lives.

When the guards put on terrible façades and let him into the city, he kept his ear tuned to listen to what they were saying. Stupidly, one of them said something out loud instead of whispering it, and though a regular person wouldn't hear it, Percy's hunting-tuned ears picked it up.

"Wouldn't he find out about the hanging anyway? He knows this city well enough."

"_Not_ well enough to get to the elm tree in the royal garden before we can get word to Queen Polyxo," another guard replied. "Now send someone!"

Percy's eyes widened as he began running towards the palace. He hears outcries from behind him, but the city suddenly seemed alive again, people running into him wherever he went. The streets were crowded, heading in the opposite direction of him, seemingly coming from the royal garden. A sliver of icy dread slithered in his veins as he poured on the speed.

Leaping over wheelbarrows and street stands, he burst into the royal courtyard. Percy growled as the flat of the sword at his side slapped his legs silly every time he pumped them. Taking the weapon out of its sheath, he cut the sheath from his side. It fell away from him as he sprinted into the garden.

"Come on!" he snapped to himself. "Get smaller, you stupid sword!"

He cursed as he kept running.

He tapped the sword in every touchable spot. It would not shrink. It would not turn into something else even as he wished it to. He wished it was a dagger, like Katoptris. It would be shorter, compact and lighter. But he knew it needed a sword to protect him in combat. A spear would never save his life.

"Dagger!" Percy shouted in desperation. He searched for the right word. "_Makhaira_!"

Suddenly, the bronze and Celestial bronze sword shimmered and decreased in length. Percy's strides faltered and stuttered as he watched the sword in his hands immediately shorten and lighten until it was a dagger the same size as Katoptris. For a moment, Percy panicked. He didn't know how to turn it into a sword.

The word suddenly came to his mind: "_Xiphos_!"

The dagger shuddered and started elongating back into a sword. He didn't have time to admire the properties of its magical shrinking and growing powers. He was too busy running to the single elm tree that stood in the center of the garden.

Growling like an animal, he tore through the bushes until he appeared in clearing. He nearly feinted in disbelief when he saw who was hanging from the lowest bough of the tree.

As he stuttered to a stop, all heads in the clearing turned to him. One of them was Queen Polyxo.

There was a stunned silence for a moment, everyone frozen and glued to their spots. Then, the bushes rustled again, and one of the guards from the front gates burst into the clearing, his sword flashing in front of him. He looked out of breath, and when his eyes landed on Percy, he narrowed his eyes and pointed his sword at the son of Poseidon.

"Queen Polyxo," the guard said bravely. "Leave! Take Helen's body. I'll hold Perseus off."

Percy's sword glowed in the shade of the elm tree. He was shaking with anger.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, his voice steely and calm. "Why is Helen fucking hanging from a tree?"

"Go, my queen!"

"_Erre es korakas_," Percy shouted.

The guard lunged. It was obvious that he was more a messenger than anything. He was militia, a man trained from adulthood rather than childhood. Percy easily parried his strike. Percy feinted, and the guard bit.

The problem with being a man is that seldom is there armour to protect your manhood. And the guard was ill-prepared.

Percy immediately lashed out with his foot and kicked him. There was a loud outcry of pain, and the guard fell to his knees. With his face contorted in pain, he struggled to stand back up. The weight of his armour took him back down. Percy stepped forward and thrust the point of the sword right through his neck.

It was an easy defeat. Percy was hoping that he'd put up more of a fight, but it was obvious he didn't have the combat ability to do it.

Percy turned, his eyes full of malice. He glared harshly at Queen Polyxo, who was still rooted to the spot. Her handmaidens were slowly inching closer to her, as if they were going to protect her. He noticed three costumes lying on the ground at the base of the tree. They looked like…like the parts of the Furies: a lash, demon-like wings, torn clothing.

There were three naked handmaidens.

His mind was too clouded for him to think straight.

"How dare you kill Helen!" he roared. "I thought I'd gotten away from that when we left Sparta. She told me that you were her friend. She told me that she trusted you! But it looks like she was wrong. You're as judgmental as every other Greek."

Queen Polyxo looked angry in her own right. She stepped in front of her handmaidens. "Perseus, you know so little about the world. You call Greeks judgmental for detesting Helen? She betrayed _us_! She left Hellas simply for Troy with a Trojan prince who she had barely met. She left her husband, Menelaus, and slept with Paris. She is a disgrace to Hellas, to all Greeks. She deserved to die."

"So? Can't you forgive?"

"Shows how much you know about Hellas," growled Polyxo. "Your mother was a whore. A slut! She even seduced and slept with you!"

There was a moment's pause before a roar of anger erupted in his ears, and his sword turned into an arc of destruction.

Blood splattered on his white _chiton_, dying it a bright crimson. The terrified screams of the handmaidens rang out in the air, but nobody came to their aid. Throats slashed, heads bashed. Ribs dismantled, legs now tangled. There were scattered bodies everywhere when he and Queen Polyxo stood alone. She was pinned against the elm tree by an arrow that Percy had expertly shot as she tried to make her escape.

She gazed fearfully at him, stunned at the sheer power of the arrow shot. It would not budge from its spot in the tree.

"You have made me an enemy," Percy growled. He held her at sword-point. "May Poseidon destroy whatever great work of art Rhodes erects. Rhodes will never know peace until their demise. I swear to the Styx upon that."

It was astonishing how quickly one could change their mind when threatened.

"Please, no!" she cried. "Have mercy!"

"Did you have mercy when dealing with Helen?" Percy asked cruelly. "Did you consider her feelings before you executed her? If the answer to those questions is no, I will not show you _any_ mercy. I will never consider your feelings."

"You wouldn't kill a queen." Polyxo's voice trembled.

He took a step closer to her. He remembered weeks ago when he'd executed the helot in front of the crowd. He remembered the thundering voice in his head saying "_End it!_" He remembered his hesitation to kill, his reluctance to kill someone who only wanted freedom.

Queen Polyxo cringed when she looked into his eyes. His blood ran cold in his veins, like ice.

"By Lord Zeus and Lady Athena, I serve justice," he said coldly.

And eerily reminiscent of the helot, Percy's weapon pierced the queen right through her head.

* * *

**Hey everyone! (READ AUTHOR'S NOTE! IMPORTANT!)**

**Here's the third chapter of this story. This is the beginning of the true rising action of this story. And THIS CHAPTER IS WHERE I NEED YOUR HELP THE MOST!**

**Please tell me where you think I can go with this story, because what I write in the next chapter will determine this story's fate. I want you to help advise me.**

**Aside from that, please vote for the poll that is up on my profile page!**

**Thanks, so much,  
SharkAttack719**


	4. Prophesied

**Author'sNoteAtTheEnd**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Percy tossed a drachma onto the table.

The man at the counter took it. "What do you want?"

"However much wine can be bought with one drachma," the son of Poseidon replied. The he tossed an obol. "And a loaf of bread. Thank you."

The servant nodded appreciatively. He went back to get what Percy had asked for.

The son of Poseidon turned in his seat to take a good, long look at Athens. There was a big social festival to celebrate the winter solstice, hence the servant at the counter. Festivities in Athens were nothing like festivities in Sparta. Spartans were much wilder, more aggressive in their parties. Athenians were more controlled. They engaged in civil conversation much more, but a loud buzz still hummed over the city.

As King Menestheus had never returned from Troy to the throne of Athens, Theseus' son Demophon was given the rights of the throne. Percy didn't really care much for Athenian politics, though. He wouldn't be staying for long, and he was sure Athena would strike him down if he made but one wrong move in her city.

"Here you go, sir."

Percy turned to face the servant. He gave the young man a small smile before taking his items and beginning to eat them. He ate slowly, not to come across as a barbarian-like man, but just another young man on a journey.

The road…or rather, _path_ to Athens was a weary one.

Percy stole one of the boats in Rhodes' harbour, but was pursued by Rhodian troops. He was cornered and forced back to Argos. Then, using his hydrokinetic powers, he destroyed them. Percy hoped his father wouldn't be mad that he'd sunk a couple of ships in his domain. After then, the journey was on land. As a young man, one who looked no older than seventeen, he was continuously harassed and picked on by older men who thought they could bully him around. He showed them who the better warrior was.

Through hunting and gathering, Percy had managed to craft himself a tougher belt with sheaths on both sides, one to hold Katoptris and the other to hold his sword that could be a dagger at the same time. For a moment, Percy had thought to name it Shapeshifter, but the fact that it had a previous owner made him want to know what they called the blade.

The only problem with that method of hunting, gathering and running…it was hard to eat. There weren't many places that there wasn't _anybody_ within a league of the place. There was always someone around, lurking in the dark, waiting to prey on weak victims.

Percy couldn't remember how many stalkers he'd killed.

Still, Percy managed to get by with stealing, lying, hunting, and pure, dumb luck. He was just like a hero from the stories. The Fates wanted him to live, so he lived.

"So, what brings you to Athens?" the servant asked, wiping the table with a cloth.

Percy tore some of the bread off the loaf and chewed it rigorously. "A city to stop in. Might as well. I can easily find a place to stay in a bigger city. Smaller villages? Everyone'll know you there. I prefer to stay hidden…out of sight. You know what I'm saying?"

"I do," the servant replied simply.

Truth be told, there was another reason why Percy was in Athens. He was due for a meeting with a man with sons just about as old as him, possibly a couple years younger. According to legend, they were Heracleidae. That meant they were descendants of Heracles.

He had no idea what to expect. Were they going to be burly? Were they going to be weak? There were so many possibilities that he couldn't decide what they were going to be. If they were anything like Heracles, they would be arrogant, brash descendants of Zeus. At least, according to Nestor, the old king of Pylos.

One of Percy's destinations after arriving at Argos was to seek help from the world's wisest man: Nestor, king of Pylos. The king was a few generations older than his own. He was the brother of Periclymenus, the infamous shape-shifter. He had been affiliated with the Argonauts, Jason's crew. He was ready to have children when Theseus was born. He survived far longer than anyone else Percy knew.

And one thing about Heracles that Nestor spoke about was the killing of his father and siblings. It was horrible…the way that Heracles did it. Periclymenus was the last to die. Nestor told Percy that he had turned into a bee to hide from the raging son of Zeus, but he eventually found him and killed him.

So, in learning all that, what was the point of going to Nestor for help?

Percy hoped that the old man would aid him in his journey to destroy Sparta. He knew he could not do it himself. Destroy an entire city? No single hero would have been able to do that. Aside from maybe Heracles, but Percy doubted it. Percy had gone to Pylos in hopes that Nestor would want to avenge Helen and Menelaus from the usurpers that were Megapenthes and Nicostratus.

But Nestor refused. He would not involve himself in another war.

Percy could respect him as a warrior who had served Hellas through many generations. He understood why Nestor refused. And he was okay with it.

The next option was the one that was accepted. Percy had gone to a scribe to write a message to the Heracleidae. Aristomachus, son of Cleodaeus and great-grandson of Heracles, was the recipient of the message. Of course, he began to learn how to write, so he would not have to go to a scribe every time he needed a letter sent, but for now it was the best he could do.

They had agreed to meet in Athens on the winter solstice under the statue of Athena in the city center. Percy was on his way, though he felt a little hungry, so he'd gotten the wine and bread first.

"Well, thank you for the food and drink," Percy said to the servant. He stood up from his stool and bowed. He flipped a drachma onto the counter. "Keep it. Use it wisely."

The servant nodded eagerly, snatching up the coin and putting it in his personal pouch. When the man behind the counter was gone, Percy looked down at the belt of the man next to him. The open pouch was just hanging there, loose where the man could not feel whether it had been stolen or not until he checked up on it.

Looking around, he untied the pouch and put it inside Katoptris' sheath. It bulged, but no one would dare take it lest they desired death.

Percy walked through the crowd, the hood of his cloak pulled over his head. A dark shadow was cast across his face as he blended in with the crowd. Behind one of the taller people there, he slumped his shoulders and ducked down to hide amongst the crowd of people.

He made his way to the city's center where the grand statue of Athena stood. They called it the Athena Parthenos. It was a beautiful artwork, crafted delicately by gold and ivory. Standing in Athena's outstretched hand was Nike, goddess of victory. It was a symbol of Athens' growing prowess, one that Percy had overlooked in the past years.

One day, Athens and Sparta would be great rivals.

The Athena Parthenos stood in the midst of a fountain, water bubbling around it. Golden drachmas gleamed in the water.

As he approached, he noticed that a group of four men were sitting at the fountain's edge. There was an older man, a man around Megapenthes' age, surrounded by three younger boys, who looked fourteen at the most and eleven at the least. That would make them at least two years younger than him.

They looked to be arguing about something. They were glancing around hesitantly, as if they were wary about being attacked. The closer he got to them, the easier it was to hear what they were saying over the crowd surrounding them.

"How do you know you can trust them, Father?" the oldest child said.

"_Him_," the man who must have been Aristomachus corrected. "And a lesson for the greater, Temenus, we are Heracleidae. None surpass us in ancestry and power."

The youngest child spoke next. "I get Sparta, right Father?"

"Yes, I will obtain Mycenae, you will rule Sparta, Temenus will rule Argos, and Cresphontes the ancient land of Messene."

"What does this man want?" the middle child, Cresphontes, asked. "Why meet us now?"

"He tells me he was betrayed by Megapenthes, current king of Sparta, and he wants revenge. He will get that revenge, and we will get the thrones of the conquered lands. Do not forget that, Cresphontes."

"Where is he?" the youngest asked.

"He told me to meet him under the statue of Athena in Athens on the winter solstice. I assume he meant during the party, so it wouldn't seem suspicious that we were meeting someone under the watchful eye of the grey-eyed goddess."

Percy stopped about an orgyia away from them, about a fathom. Pushing the hood back off of his head, he stepped forth to finally meet the famed Heracleidae.

The night was dark, the shadows dancing in the light of the fire. But at the city center, the crowd was loud and rowdy. It was the perfect concealment for a conversation as they were about to have. No one would be able to listen to what they spoke of without Percy noticing them.

"Aristomachus, son of Cleodaeus," Percy greeted without hesitation. He bowed with his head before turning his eyes on the younger children, who looked up at him with fierce blue eyes. They had inherited Zeus' eyes. "Temenus, Cresphontes and Aristodemus, sons of Aristomachus."

"So you are Percy," Aristomachus said, stepping in front of his children, as if to protect them. There was a reluctant look in his eyes. "A rather odd name."

"For a rather odd person," he replied bluntly. "Take a seat."

Percy took that moment to regard all four of them. They all had electrifying eyes, just like Helen. It was the trademark of Zeus' children and some of his descendants. The only difference was that Aristodemus had light hair whilst the others had dark hair. He regarded the eleven-year-old boy kindly.

"Did you bleach your hair?"

Aristodemus looked down nervously. "Um, yes."

"Haven't seen blonde hair…well, ever. At least, not with someone I've spoken to."

Aristomachus stood up, somewhat nervous and somewhat impatient. "Well, you wrote to me that you have a…proposition. Perhaps you would indulge us into that plan of yours? We are _very_ eager to work with you in capturing Sparta for revenge against the usurpers of the throne."

"I expected such," Percy said with a sigh. "All right, Aristomachus. Here is the deal. Megapenthes and Nicostratus exiled Helen from Sparta, and since I valued family over power, I went with her. The only problem is that I feel they had no right to exile her. What for? Just because she went prancing off with a Trojan prince? So, I want revenge on them. I want to see them captured at my feet. I want to torture them with the most brutal tools ever known to mankind. I want them to suffer and die by my hand. However, I do not want the Spartan throne. In fact, I want no throne at all. I am not suited to be a royal. That is where you four come in. I know I cannot finish Sparta off by myself. You all can help me fight them and battle against the city's guards. Then, you all can take the thrones. We both get what we desire."

"Hold on a moment." Aristomachus held his hand up in a halting gesture. "What do you mean you 'valued family over power?' Helen of Sparta is not your…" His eyes widened. "Perseus. Percy. How could I not see that? You are the prince of Sparta?"

The son of Poseidon turned away, looking up into the sky. "Not anymore."

"So you get your revenge, and we get the power of the throne?" Temenus asked.

"I don't expect you young ones to be ready yet. You're not Spartans. You'll need training in battle. I'm sure, being the descendants of Heracles and all, that you'll learn quickly. But until then, grow up and mature. I can wait."

That last part was kind of a lie. Percy wanted to get his hands on Megapenthes and Nicostratus as soon as possible. All he needed was at least a decade more time so Aristodemus could mature more. There was no such thing as an eleven-year-old facing battle. At the youngest, he could be fifteen. Percy wanted this plan to go over smoothly and efficiently. He needed patience.

Percy turned back to them. "I know I threw everything at you at once, but what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

The four Heracleidae looked at each other. Aristomachus spoke, "Could you give us a moment of privacy, Perseus?"

Percy stared at the older man, trying to suck information just by probing him with his eyes. "Very well."

Then he walked toward the crowd.

Looking back up into the sky, Percy noticed that the clouds were rolling in, darkening the sky even further. It was slow, the power of the wind gentle, but Percy could tell they were storm clouds. Was this a sign from Zeus? Was taking revenge on Sparta not the right way to go?

Percy remembered the words of Helen, how she wanted him not to act upon instinct. She wanted him to act upon logic. She wanted him to be…be like an Athenian.

_Percy, please don't act rashly. Do not make the mistakes that I did when I was younger. I have brought shame to my family and my legacy because of my foolish decision._

Would destroying Sparta really be worth it? What gains would he take from it? Was it worth it to watch an entire city perish for the sake of two vengeful brothers?

Yes, it was.

He tried convincing himself that it was worth it, but the doubt still lingered there, forever engrained in his mind.

But still, Percy wanted to appease Helen. He had to, because she was the reason he was who he was. He would have been killed if she had not adopted him. They would have pinned his feet together and left him on Mount Taygetos to die. So he didn't act rashly. He would be patient with his revenge.

_Patience is good_, a distant voice hissed in his head.

Percy looked back toward the Heracleidae. They were staring at him, waiting for him to return. Crossing his arms over his chest, he slowly made his way over. Sometimes being raised as royalty has its privileges. He inclined his head, looking down on them with a baleful eye. Obviously, he knew it was hard to master, considering his "brooding" look that many said branded him as a rebel.

"Do we have a deal or not?" he asked. He kept his voice even, neither filled with contempt nor eagerness.

Aristomachus nodded. "We do." He extended his hand.

Percy smiled and extended his own to shake, a short and small ritual that would seal their deal…at least in honour. Only should they swear to the Styx that their deal would be unbreakable lest they wished for deadly consequences worse than death.

"I do believe you should head up to Delphi, to seek out help from the Oracle for your destiny," Aristomachus advised. "To learn of the fall of Sparta."

Percy cocked his head. "A prophecy?"

The great-grandson of Heracles nodded.

"Very well." Percy bowed. "I hope you all train well. When your training is done, leave a message for me in the decayed house on the far north side of the city. It lies outside the walls and is not protected. Hide it between the crack in the floor three podes in from the front entrance. No matter what you hear or see, do not stay to question or look."

The three boys shared questionable looks.

"You have to trust me. Swear on the Styx that you won't linger."

The Hercleidae looked at one another before turning back to the son of Poseidon and swearing to the Styx. Thunder rumbled in the sky.

"Good night, you four." Then Percy pulled the cloak over his head and darted into the crowd.

To anyone, it would have looked like he'd disappeared into thin air. But that was what anger did when it began to control one's life. Revenge, balancing the scales. Nemesis.

He was at a crossroads, at Hecate's boundaries. Like most crossroads, he had four options. One was to go back. He could try and live in Athens. He could make a living. He would be a normal mortal with the occasional monster trying to murder him. It was a hard-working, peaceful and serene life. He didn't need to join the army.

Another option was to head northeast. He could escape Hellas. He would never have to come back. He would roam the world, hunt for food, and perhaps eventually get married and have a family in a nice, small village somewhere out in the world. He could head to Anatolia. He could head up to Thrace. He could go to the far reaches of the world, to loop around to the far west, the Pillars of Heracles. He could go to the north, to explore the regions out of the control of the Olympians. He could go down south to Egypt, to Ethiopia, to Libya. He could even go far to the east, to the land of the Phoenicians and the far reaches of the eastern deserts.

Percy could also choose to go northwest, toward the Oracle of Delphi. He would seek advice from the oracle, as Aristomachus had suggested. He would learn his future through a prophecy and would know his fate. Anything could have been in store.

But the last path was the most terrifying of all. Percy could storm Sparta right now, overcoming the land and sacking the entire city by himself. He knew he would kill himself, but the anger he knew he would feel when coming at the city would force him to bring everyone with him to the Underworld. The carnage and death would be massive. Percy would change history forever.

Percy closed his eyes. A image of a misty room flashed in his mind. Percy saw four doorways.

Looking at the one behind him, he saw himself working as a trader, going from city to city to trade items. He had a normal life, a normal job. He saw himself working on the ship, lonely and tired. He saw himself as a haggard man—someone who regretted not taking action.

The gateway to the northeast showed an image of foul creatures chasing him through the woods. Percy saw himself running, and he looked terrible. He looked as though he hadn't eaten in days. He looked like he had seldom gotten rest. He looked…dead.

In the gateway to the southwest, Percy saw himself standing atop the palace of Sparta over a courtyard of dead bodies. His entire body was covered in blood and guts. He fell to his knees, clearly exhausted. The entire city looked like an enormous wave had engulfed it. There was a wrecked galley in the center of the courtyard. Everything looked like it had been annihilated. It wasn't just him that was dead. _Everything_ looked dead.

Unlike what he'd thought, the gateway to the northwest looked the worst. He saw a mixture of everything he'd seen so far. He saw images of himself at peace, in a serene environment. Then he saw himself commanding what looked to be an army. A city burned in the background, the fire glowing against the armour of the army. Then there he was in the forest, a massive wound drawn across his stomach and an arrow impaled in his chest.

_Which road shalt thou take?_ a voice echoed in his head. _To Athens and you will live a boring life. You will feel useless. You will have never accomplished your goal. You will be a coward. To Sparta and you will die knowing you only destroyed the physical embodiment of Sparta. Its spirit will still live on. You will have accomplished nothing. Roam the world and you will never see peace. You will be an animal, hunted until you are killed. In the light of escaping your past, you lose your fortune and favour. Nothing you do will have positive consequences. But to Delphi, you will endure pain and suffering that you would never dream of. Yet, it is the only way you will find true inner peace. Which road shalt thou take?_

Which road? Which road?

Such a complicated answer to such a simple question. But Percy made his decision.

* * *

Percy hesitantly entered Apollo's temple at Delphi. The altar that stood at the back of the main room loomed over him as he approached.

There was a disturbing aura about the place, lurking in the empty corridors, waiting in the shadows and ready to strike.

There was a single human, a young girl, facing the large statue of Apollo. She was admiring the painted image of the god killing Python, the wretched serpent-dragon that had protected the spirit of Delphi, as if she had never seen anything like it before. But that couldn't be true. The Oracle lived in Delphi.

"I do dwell here often," the girl said without turning around, "though I live in the village with my parents. I am fortunate that I have a sister, so my parents do not need to see their only daughter become a maiden for the remainder of her life. Though, I could break my promise to Apollo when I pass the spirit onwards."

"What, does Apollo speak to you often?" Percy noted sarcastically, trying to relieve some of his personal tension.

The girl turned around and smiled. She was young, maybe thirteen at the most. "No. He doesn't trust himself around young women. Only the young ones who dwell here in Delphi. It is his duty to be our patron, not our lover."

Percy gave her a smile of his own. "What's it like? You know, being the Oracle of Delphi?"

"Many make that mistake," she said, stepping down from the tall altar. She approached him daringly and stared straight at his eyes. "I am not the Oracle of Delphi. I am merely a medium. The true oracle speaks through me when the right occasion arises."

"Oh, well that's good to—"

"You have the most intriguing eyes," the girl said, cutting him off. "They are…sea-green, like the ocean. Not many children of Poseidon look like the god himself. None, not even the most infamous of them, have his eyes. Not Theseus nor Orion nor Bellerophon."

"Bellerophon was a son of Poseidon?" Percy asked, not minding she had cut him off.

"Most do not know." She slowly paced around him, studying him as if he was a statue. "There are many rumors. They say he's a son of Glaucus, but in truth, he was born with the qualities of a demigod. Orion had emerald green eyes, which did not embody the sea; Theseus had blue eyes, like the colours of the rivers; and Bellerophon had dark brown eyes, like his mother."

"So, I'm interesting?"

"Very," she agreed. Then she sighed and went back to the altar at the front. "What purpose brings you here, Perseus, son of Poseidon and former prince of Sparta? Do you seek a prophecy?"

"Well, yes." He nodded reluctantly.

"You don't sound certain."

"Yes, I seek a prophecy," he said affirmatively.

The girl suddenly opened her mouth, and the creepiest thing he'd ever seen in his life happened. A green mist poured from her mouth, coiling over the floor in thick tendrils, hissing like twenty thousand snakes. Percy's eyes widened and he stepped back, but the green mist grew behind him, and he knew he had to stay.

Inside his head, he heard a voice, slithering into both ears and coiling around his brain: _I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask._

Percy swallowed his fear and asked, "What is my destiny?"

The mist swirled more thickly, collecting right in front of him. Suddenly there were two men standing in front of him. Their faces became clearer. It was Megapenthes and Nicostratus.

Percy's fists clenched, though he knew they were just illusions, made out of mist.

Megapenthes turned toward him and spoke in the rasping voice of the Oracle: _A Half-Blood of the three pronged trident._

Then Nicostratus spoke: _Shall give retribution of his own malcontent._

Then they began speaking at once, seemingly merging into one person: _Champion of the crown, and guardian of all, the eternal foe to injustice and oppression's call. The hero shall find nothing but war, and fall at the hands of a friend and the boar._

The green mist suddenly dissipated. It retreated like a snake, coiling into a huge green serpent and slithering back into the mouth of the little girl. Percy was too shocked to utter a word. But when the girl collapsed in a heap, he sprung into action, catching her head before she could hit the ground.

The girl shivered as he laid her gently against the left wall of the temple. When he was finished adjusting her so that she would be comfortable, she stirred and her eyes opened. They were groggy, as if she'd been in a slumber.

"Does this happen often, after you recite prophecies?" Percy immediately asked, not caring for etiquette.

"Hm? What?" Then the girl looked down on herself. "Oh this? Yes, it happens all the time. I'm used to it. Everybody in Delphi is. You can go now."

"Are you sure? You don't need any help?"

"No, no." The girl looked earnest. "I will be fine."

Percy didn't look convinced, but he complied. He turned around to walk away when suddenly the girl's voice rang out behind him: "By the way, you have a really beautiful bow. Did you design it yourself?"

He turned, glancing at the bow slung over him. He hadn't bothered to unstring it. "Yeah, I did."

"That's really cool. And I love its black colour. It camouflages well at night."

"Thanks," Percy said awkwardly.

"And just so you know, I think our definition of 'hero' is completely wrong. I don't think a hero is a powerful demigod who is able to accomplish nearly impossible tasks. I don't think a hero has to be straight-out handsome, with the muscles and the chiseled face. I think a hero embodies what we like to think the best qualities in ourselves. They're the 'self-sacrificers.' They're the friends at any cost. They're the first people to reach out a helping hand and the last people to withdraw them. Not all heroes need to have the fame and the glory. And sometimes girls like the deadly and mysterious guy. You know what I'm saying? _Kalotychía_, Perseus. Good luck! You'll need it. Because _everything_ is about to change."

Then she got up and turned around to stare at the statue of Apollo, as if our conversation never happened. As if all was right in the world. As if there weren't any people suffering outside of this isolated temple. As if… As if nothing was about to change.

Because nothing is normal. Not in this world.

* * *

**Hey everybody!**

**Ok, here's the deal. I'm going camping on Wednesday and I'll be gone till Friday. I won't have any time to work on my stories until then, so I wanted to get this chapter up for all of you. Next, I've got this huge exam tomorrow (or today, depending on when you're reading this) so I probably won't be able to respond to any of you tomorrow. So, basically, Monday night in North America, very early Tuesday morning in Europe, Tuesday afternoon in Oceania and eastern Asia... that will be around the time that I will be able to respond to you. Otherwise, you're cut off completely for a week.**

**Next, despite whatever the prophecy holds, I AM keeping your wishes in consideration, especially since like 39 out of the 55 votes are with Percy becoming a god, but it won't necessarily turn him into one. Just saying. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Questions of the Chapter: What do you think about this story in general? What possibilities do you think it could hold? Have I limited it now that there's a prophecy? What could I improve? Do you have any questions for me?**

**With best regards,  
SharkAttack719**


	5. Confusion

**Author'sNoteAtTheEnd.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"You'd think you'd be glad you understood the language of another peoples," Percy grumbled. He took a swig of beer. "Totally."

"_Filthy Greek!_" someone shouted in ancient Egyptian. "_Lumbering around like a dog!_"

"_Shut yerr face!_" Percy yelled back in his choppy Egyptian. "_I kick yerr ass._"

Two years roaming the world, and Egypt was the once place that he'd decided to stay in. He had no idea why he chose Egypt. It was in a decline. The land was increasingly beset by droughts, below-normal flooding of the Nile River, famine, civil unrest and official corruption. Percy could have easily stayed with one of the northern tribes. But no. He had to stay in one of the worst and hottest places on Gaea.

On the bright side, he learned quite a bit about the Egyptian gods. Curiously, the Egyptians decided to make the heads of their gods the heads of animals. For example, Thoth, the Egyptian equivalent of Athena, had the head of an ibis. An ibis was this weird bird-like creature. The odd thing was that Thoth was often compared with Hermes. Percy had never met the Egyptian god nor the Greek god but he was certain that Thoth was nothing like Hermes.

Most of the time Percy thought about the lines of the prophecy that the Oracle had given him:

_A Half-Blood of the three-pronged trident,  
Shall give retribution of his own malcontent.  
Champion of the crown, and guardian of all,  
The eternal foe to injustice and oppression's call.  
The hero shall find nothing but war,  
And fall at the hands of a friend and the boar._

The first line, the second line, the fifth line and the sixth line all made perfect sense. Line one meant that he was the son of Poseidon. Line two meant that he would eventually give a suitable punishment to the Spartans, who caused his malcontent. Line five meant that he would find nothing but war. And line six meant that he would fall at a friend's hand along with Ares, because the boar is the sign of Ares. Easy as making wine.

But the second line made him shiver a little, because despite the fact that he'd pretty much figured out, he knew there could be a double meaning there.

_Champion of the crown, and guardian of all._

That line was the most bizarre of all. Its meaning was so vague that Percy was unsure of what it was even attempting to mean. Did "champion of the crown" relate to the fact the he was next in line for the throne? Did "guardian of all" refer to the fact that he was fair and just in his decisions? What about the fourth line?

The dozens of possibilities rattled in his mind, bouncing from wall to wall. It made his head hurt. Groaning, he fell down, his head making contact loudly with the table that he was at. A bunch of Egyptians cursed at him, but he made a rude gesture back at them. One of the slaves, whose family descended from Hellas, walked up to the son of Poseidon and helped clean up his cup.

"Sir, would you kindly tell me what your purpose in this dwindling kingdom is?"

The question was so sudden, Percy barely comprehended that he was being spoken to. "Uh, sorry. What?"

"What are you doing in the New Kingdom?"

"I don't know," Percy admitted. "Women's rights? They're way better here than in Hellas. If you've ever been there…"

"Once, but my master found me." The slave pulled down part of her robe. There was a nasty cut that ran along her abdomen. "I was raped and brutally beaten. But since then it has been great. I do have to agree with you. Hellas is not very free. Even if women are still regarded as inferior to men, I like Egypt better."

Percy smiled, a little tipsy. "Well, I hope you enjoy your life." He gave her a bag of grain. "Keep the extra."

_BOOM!_

There was a sudden explosion, and screaming followed suit. Percy's hands fell to his belt.

"_What's the commotion?_" a guy slurred. He stumbled outside before falling to the ground and passing out.

Percy saluted the slave who'd helped serve him before sprinting toward the sound of chaos. There were more screams now, and the sounds of explosions were getting nearer. But as the sound got closer, he realized that they weren't sounds of explosions. Something big and heavy was smashing into houses and shops, causing them to collapse and fall right where they stood.

He could already see the carnage that was hitting Rhakotis' western side.

Growling, Percy hopped onto one of the food carts and propelled himself toward the rooftops. He used his Spartan training to pull himself up before leaping across them as if he was playing a game. He could completely see the wreckage that had been brought to the city. The western walls of the city had been breached, a giant hole at the gates.

Percy could see two snakelike heads poking out from the buildings. It roared, the sound echoing across the entire city. At first sight, he thought it was a Hydra, but he knew he needed to get closer to be able to confirm that fact.

The creature kept spitting something. There would be a flash of green, and then a suddenly smell of burned and melted material filled the air. Percy knew that it had to be some sort of poison, venom or acid.

Cursing in a string of ancient Greek words, he pulled his sword and Katoptris out.

"Xiphos!"

One day, Percy would need a shield, but using a large dagger to parry attacks would have to do for now.

The bronze and Celestial bronze blade grew in his hands until a gleaming gamma podes long sword appeared in his hands. (Three-foot-long sword.)

When he reached the public courtyard that the beast had taken down, he halted, his blood turning cold in fear. It was not the Hydra, a creature that would have been much easier to kill. He knew that fire could kill it. But this creature…Percy knew absolutely nothing about it aside from its appearance and name.

"Amphisbaena," Percy muttered.

The amphisbaena was pretty much a venomous, dual-headed snakelike creature. With the legs of a dragon, its body was shortened so it grew little more than what its two feet could support. It was surprisingly hard to find the feet given the fact that the two heads, both necks equal in length, were lashing out at him. Its teeth bared, ready to snap and eat him.

When one of the heads lunged for him, he whacked it to the side with the flat of his sword blade. The pitiful, green eyes glared at him. They looked like swirling storms of poison and glowed like green lightning.

A gooey, hot liquid landed at his feet, and he realized he had been standing there and staring. Leaping back, he realized that it was indeed acid that the creature spat at him.

He rolled to the side as the amphisbaena destroyed part of a wall and created a hail of bricks. Percy jumped onto the roof of the building to his right just as the other head came hurtling in. He had no idea what the amphisbaena's head was made of, but it was really damn strong. Destroying the floor underneath of him, the amphisbaena pulled back.

He collapsed into the house, where a family was cowering under a table.

"_Get out!_" he shouted in Egyptian.

The family quickly obeyed and made their way out of the house. Percy followed them through the hole in their house before ushering them away from the beast. He ran toward the creature, halting it from its rampage further into the city.

Pulling his bow from around himself, he fired one of the few Celestial bronze arrows that he had. It nailed one of the eyes of one of the heads. Roaring in pain, it stumbled back into the courtyard of crumbling buildings and debris. It crashed into a statue of Thoth, which somehow hadn't been destroyed in its previous encounter with the monster, and made it shatter into pieces.

Percy quickly undid the string of his bow, strapped it to his back quiver, and grabbed his sword and Katoptris. Then he charged the amphisbaena. It was a stupid and foolish move.

Initially, he ducked under the attack of the front head before whacking the back head away from him. He managed to cut off one of the monster's feet, to which the monster replied by roaring in more pain.

But along with that pain came anger, and the monster lashed out quicker than he would have ever anticipated, and the next thing he knew he was lying in a pile of bricks, pain shooting all across his body. He wished he hadn't just eaten. It hurt his body to fight.

He had barely picked up himself up from the rocks when acid splattered on his _chiton_. Some of it got onto his skin, and he screamed in pain and agony. The _chiton_ was sizzling now, the fabric burning away. The toxic fumes reached his nose as he ran around, not knowing what to do. He cursed Sparta for not telling him what to do when he faced this creature.

Percy found himself being lifted by the teeth of the amphisbaena, and gripped his sword tighter. He blindly swung as he was brought higher up into the air. The beast hissed in pain before he was sent flying over the city of Rhakotis.

It was a marvelous view of the city from this height, but it was also the most frightening view. The amphisbaena started creating a path of destruction from its spot toward the harbour, the direction which Percy was flying towards. It clearly wanted to play with him as its chew toy.

The citizens were evacuating through the south east side of the city, toward Memphis and Thebes, two much larger and more developed cities. Both of them individually were larger than all of the city-states of Hellas put together.

It would have been phenomenal to bask in the glory of flying over a city, but all Percy could think or say was, "AAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!"

The ground raced toward him at the speed of a racing chariot. Wind ripped the breath from his lungs.

Then suddenly, water tumbled into his vision and there was a huge _KA-FLOOOSH_!

Alarmed, Percy found himself underwater…and he could breathe. Despite knowing he was a son of Poseidon, he'd never really tested out his powers. He remembered being able to calculate his exact position in the ocean relative to the lands around the Mediterranean, but he'd hardly paid attention to that. Breathing was one thing on its own. And there was the fact that he didn't feel wet. He felt dry. And the acid didn't hurt anymore. In fact, his wounds were healing. It was incredible.

When he climbed out of the water, the most peculiar sight befell his eyes.

There was an old man sitting on the shore, staring out at the Mediterranean as if it was a normal day. As if there wasn't a giant monster trying to destroy the city.

"The amphisbaena doesn't scare me," the man said.

That was when the smell of the man hit Percy. He smelled terrible—ocean terrible. Like hot seaweed and dead fish and brine. If the ocean had an ugly side…this guy was it. He wore a linen robe covered in the most disgusting-looking rotten food Percy had ever seen. Percy nearly passed out just looking at the guy.

"And I often dress like this so demigods will stay away from me," he said. "Usually, I would have you catch me, but I don't feel like running away today. I'm tired."

Percy wrinkled his nose. "Who are you?"

"Nereus, Old Man of the Sea," the man recited, as if it was his occupation. "That's what they always call me. I have the power of prophecy, so many heroes come to me for aid in their quests. After so many years of annoying brats coming to me for help, I try to make myself unknown to them. The last hero I helped was Heracles. He's quite the charmer if you get past his ego and pride."

"Nereus?" Percy tried to remember the stories. "You were a son of…of Pontus and Gaea, right? And the father of Thetis, who sired Achilles, and Amphitrite, who—"

"Married an unfaithful husband to sire the likes of yourself," Nereus pointed out. "But I couldn't care less. My daughter is in love with Poseidon, so I cannot ruin her ecstasy. Meanwhile, with you…hm, I will help you."

"Help me with what? This is all getting confusing. You're jumping around from topic to topic like—"

"I do believe you are trying to kill the amphisbaena, hm?" Nereus put a finger to his chin in thought. "Well, I suppose you would be doing this because the creature is trying to kill you now, is it not? Anyway, can I see your sword?"

"Wait, what?"

"Summon your sword," Nereus said blandly. When Percy stared at him in a confused manner, the Titan rolled his eyes. "Oh, please don't tell me you don't know how to use your fishy powers. Just think about the sword being propelled into the air by the water. And it will happen."

"Seriously, can you stay on one—"

"Just do it!"

Percy exhaled in frustration and did as he was told. He raised his hand and willed the water to spit the sword back out. It was only then that he realized he could sense the sword's presence in the water in his gut. Then something glowing shot out of the water straight into his hand. He stumbled back in surprise, but gaped when he saw the sword back in his hand, primed and ready to be used for combat.

Nereus immediately snatched it from his hand.

"Hey!" Percy complained.

But Nereus was too busy staring at the sword. His eyes softened. "Oh my…it has left his lineage. Poseidon must have claimed it. Long ago…oh my…"

Percy knit his eyebrows. "What?" he demanded.

Nereus shook his head. "Long ago, Heracles came to seek help. He wielded this very sword. He called it Anaklusmos."

"The current that takes on by surprise," Percy suddenly recited, his head numb. "And before you know it, you have been swept out to sea." Grimacing, he rubbed his forehead. "What…what was that?"

"So you know," Nereus said sadly.

"So I know what?"

"Where this blade comes from," the Titan said. "In time, you will meet its creator, its true owner. Heracles received this as a gift from someone he would not name. But I see now that the blade is cursed. Only you can mend the curse, heal the broken bond. You will do many things Perseus, son of Poseidon."

"You're…you're confusing me. You're just saying things as if I'm supposed to know what they mean. Stop making everything so messed up and jumbled together like a wild storm."

"The amphisbaena approaches," Nereus said, ignoring his outburst. "Aeneas, son of Venus, is destined to land in Latium in Italia to found a new nation, one that shall be known in the far reaches of the world. You must choose your side. Will you betray your peoples or will you protect them?"

"I said STOP!"

Nereus' lips twitched. "What a slut time is. She screws everybody. Including you. But you'll have plenty of practice before she seduces you into her trap."

"What the fuck?!"

"_Prosperitas, Perseus, filius Neptuni_," Nereus said in a language Percy couldn't understand.

Then the man melted right into the water without any explanation for anything he'd said in the short two minutes that they'd been standing there.

But Percy had no time to waste. The amphisbaena was about to destroy an entire city. And he wasn't going to let that happen. Funny how a city in a declining empire meant more to him than his own birth city.

Percy looked down at his sword. The hilt suddenly glowed, and the Greek word Anaklusmos shimmered into existence. Maybe it was in his subconscious mind, but he had the feeling he already knew it had a special tie to water. He wondered what Nereus had meant about how the blade was cursed.

With a guttural scream, the ocean behind him exploded. The harbour, which had been full of boats, was now submerged in a flood of rushing water. Percy leaped onto the water as he directed it right toward the amphisbaena, which was still trying to make its way toward him.

The monster saw him coming at the very last moment, and the torrent of water slammed into it. It was sent flying back into a pile of rubble, and Percy willed the water away. As it splattered down to the stone pavement, he landed gently on his two feet. Anaklusmos seemed to glow in his hands.

"Give me all you got, you little piece of crap," Percy growled.

The heads snapped at him simultaneously, attacking him from both sides. He rolled forward toward the beast and stabbed it right through its belly. Unfortunately, the monster didn't die. The two heads, having slammed together, wailed in confusion, spitting acid everywhere.

Percy stabbed the beast again, and it reeled backward, its long necks yanking the body away like rope hauling tradable goods.

One head managed to knock him over, but he regained his footing quickly, and the acid landed exactly where he had fallen. Percy lunged forward, Anaklusmos and Katoptris glinting dangerously. When he lashed at the beast, it seemed afraid of him, and tried to scramble away. It already lost a foot. It was losing its life quickly.

A head lunged at him and it tore part of his _chiton_ off. It was so close to scraping his skin and poisoning him with its venomous bite.

But before it could pull away, Percy swung Anaklusmos, and the head of the back tail of the amphisbaena fell to the ground, its eyes wide open in sheer terror. Who knew monsters could be so afraid of simple demigods?

Pushing off his strong leg, he leaped onto the amphisbaena's back. The monster wildly thrashed around, and Percy nearly lost his grip several times. It was not until the monster realized the attempt was futile that Percy stabbed the beast with Anaklusmos. Then he beheaded the creature as he cut the neck off.

He didn't get a break, though. As soon as the monster was dead, a voice echoed in his mind:

_The son of the Dove shall embark on change,  
Six years on the sea to lands of the strange.  
Pricked by Love's arrow, the hero shall lose focus,  
To leave the Queen's heart angry and vicious.  
And find new lands to found a new empire,  
Centuries forward kingship shall expire,  
A legacy of the Dove and a god shall birth two offspring,  
In the lands of the Latins, the two see much warring,  
Until an argument's last breath,  
Bears an empire of death._

Percy knew immediately what that meant. It was a prophecy, a bone-chilling prophecy, delivered about Aeneas, the surviving Trojan, and his future. In Egypt, Aeneas was more popular than one would think. Helen had stayed in Egypt once, and Trojans were known to Memnon and his Ethiopians just to the south.

_Aeneas, son of Venus, is destined to land in Latium in Italia to found a new nation, one that shall be known in the far reaches of the world. You must choose your side. Will you betray your peoples or will you protect them?_

Nereus' words echoed in his head. He knew where he had to go next. To make another deal. To get aid in helping to destroy Sparta.

Percy needed to get to Latium, the future home of Aeneas, prince of Dardanus.

* * *

**Ugh, so do you think I should re-write this chapter? I don't know. I'm feeling a little hesitant about it.**

**This sudden second prophecy reminds me of Everlasting Hero: The Golden Blade. I don't know. I really don't. Tell me if I should re-write this. I have another idea for where this could go.**

**If you think this is fine, tell me what you like about it. Critique it. I don't care. Just leave a review. I want to improve.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HISTORY. I DO NOT OWN PERCY AS A CHARACTER. I DO NOT OWN ANY MYTHOLOGY. EVERYTHING ASIDE FROM THE PLOT I DO NOT OWN.**

**Thanks so much,  
SharkAttack719**


	6. Married?

**Author'sNoteAtTheEnd.**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Had it really been two years since he was exiled from Sparta? Had it really been over ten years since he was introduced into the life of Spartan training? Had it really been yesterday that he had begun his journey to Italia, to Latium?

Nothing seemed to make sense. The whole world appeared to be moving twice as fast as he was.

He was eighteen now, much older and much more mature than his fifteen year old self. Yet still the only thing he could address was his hatred for Sparta and how much he wanted to destroy it. The anger, though still lingering right there, wasn't as strong as it used to be. More of his anger was directed at Megapenthes and Nicostratus.

Percy knew nothing about Latium. Absolutely nothing.

Greeks considered them barbaric. It was as if they didn't have a culture. They weren't like Trojans or Egyptians or Phoenicians or Thracians. They were completely unknown to the Hellenic world. Greeks didn't understand the Latins. But Percy wondered how the simple descendants of a Trojan and a Latin would bear an empire of death. What made the Latins so special?

Italia was a peninsula stretching out from the large mainland up north; one toe pointed to Thrinacia, or as the rest of the world called it Sicily, and the other heel toward Hellas. It was similar to the Hellas mainland, though Hellas had neither a toe nor a heel. All she had was a very jagged, slightly rounded bottom.

From the merchants and sailors that Percy had met, he had learned that Latium was right in the heart of Italia. It was centered on a very marshy area, which had long been turned into fertile, volcanic soil on which the tribe of the Latins resided. And they had also said that the capital city was located inland along a river called the Tibur or Tiber. It stood around a stage (or twenty-five kilometers) inland. He had also been told that the king of the Latins was King Latinus, who was a very open and welcome king.

No one knew anything about an "Aeneas." They'd never even heard that Troy had fallen, or that there was a prince named Hector who died valiantly in battle against the Greeks.

The merchants of the west were really missing out on history. It was known all over Hellas and the east (Phoenicia, Anatolia, Scythia, Egypt) that Troy had fallen. Sicily and Italia had no clue. Neither did western Libya.

The biggest war in all of human history, and Italians and Latins didn't know anything about it. That seemed so impossible.

Percy was shocked at this revelation at first; he had wanted to be a part of this massive war. It was the biggest deal in Hellas since Jason came back from the east in his victory against Medusa and his dad's sea monster Ketos. Perhaps it was because the war had to do with the entirety of Hellas and their kings, whom had sworn to join in war should anything happen to Helen. Nevertheless, it was still very, very important.

This ocean voyage was nothing like the journey he had undergone to get to Egypt. At first, he had no destination. He was in Athens at first, meeting with the Heracleidae, before he went on a journey to Delphi to seek his destiny. There, the host of the Oracle of Delphi told him her definition of a hero, the person that people secretly want a hero to embody. Perhaps the good-looking guys are the easiest to call heroes. Perhaps the ugly runts aren't heroes.

But in truth, not all heroes need to have the fame and the glory.

That's where Achilles went wrong. Percy knew, no matter what he ended up being, he would be a hero for Helen. The rightful Queen of Sparta would always be his motivation, his fuel. Because with the most famous heroes, the legends they hold are always scattered with bumps and scars. No hero is ever considered perfect.

So, after Delphi, Percy decided that he wanted to go to Troy, to see the wreckage of the fallen city. He travelled on his own, trading his gems for money. Despite the fact that the gems were worth a lot of money, Percy only took what he could hold. He had bought his way to Anatolia, a boat passing by Hellespont where he jumped off and swam to the shore.

After many days of wandering and hunting for food, he finally found Troy. He found the Scamander River on the fifth day, which he followed until he found the remains of the desolate city. The walls of the great fortified city were utterly destroyed, most of the material broken into small pieces of debris. Though many buildings still stood, they were heavily damaged. There were burn marks everywhere, and despite the fact that most of the bricks could withstand the heat, it was evident that the fire and lasted much longer than the Greeks had stayed in Troad.

The palace upon its acropolis was in ruins now. The entire roof was gone, and the only remnants of the palace were the great stone arcs and most of the broken, burned walls.

Troy must have been a magnificent city.

Percy stumbled upon many skeletons. A lot of them were heavily damaged. One of them looked like a figure of a very small child, heavily dented royal armour hanging dully from his or her skeletal body. A splintered wooden sword lay beside him, the splintered side darkened from fire. A simple bronze crown lay twisted a few podes away from the figure's head, but it looked as though it had been decorated by an assortment of different jewels and gemstones.

If Percy could take one guess at who it was, he swore it would have been the skeleton of Astyanax, son of Hector. Menelaus, a year after the war, told Percy that Astyanax had been killed by Achilles' son Neoptolemus by hurling him off the Trojan acropolis. It was the exact same spot as where the skeleton figure lay.

There were many other horrible sights.

Dead women lay on the streets, their dresses torn. Some were only torn around the waist area. Some were torn completely. Dried dirt caked the white dresses. Philokrates was right. It _had_ been a massacre.

But it was war. Even though he wanted nothing to do with Sparta ever again, he'd been raised in their philosophy. He couldn't always feel sympathy or feel bad. Sometimes it was justice and duty that served first. What was he supposed to do? Suddenly become Athenian?

All Percy could see was an entire city completely and utterly destroyed simply because a woman had been taken from Greek hands.

It was cruel—the fates that the gods helped weave into truth. Humans and demigods were like toys to them. They were simple organisms that lacked the importance to listen to. They were, in a sense, nothing… or useless.

When he had finished with Troy, he had gone down the coast to Ephesus, a fairly small city. It was so small it could be considered a village. There, it was planned to construct a temple of Artemis. Percy was never one for architecture, but the marvelous statues and buildings erected were dazzling to the eye.

The people of Ephesus were so naïve. Being Greek colonists, they knew very well about the Trojan War, but they still dared to settle in enemy lands, in Anatolia. There would be no doubt that the allies of Troy would want revenge on Hellas for what happened.

If there was only some way to eliminate the threats, Percy thought.

After Ephesus, he went over to Mycenae to spy on Orestes and Hermione. Apparently Orestes was now the heir to the Spartan throne. Percy didn't mind if he took over, as long as he could get his revenge. Even though he was going over to Latium to convince Aeneas to his cause, and had already enlisted the help of the Heracleidae, and had gotten a prophecy regarding his future, he needed to have backup after backup after backup…in terms of plans. It was like a mastermind web of interconnecting silk strings.

Mycenae was doing well under the son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra. Percy knew little about his uncle and aunt, mainly because Agamemnon had been slain as soon as he got back from the Trojan War, and Orestes had killed Clytemnestra and her lover, Aegisthus, after they had killed Agamemnon.

But he'd heard that Agamemnon was a hero in the Trojan War, despite his disputes with Achilles. The way that some portrayed the general made him seem like the antagonist just because he fought with Achilles. He was apparently this villainous figure. However, according to others, he was very much a hero of Hellas. He led the Greek army to Troy. He did what _he_ thought was best for Hellas.

Philokrates had also been moved to Mycenae to protect Orestes instead of Megapenthes.

Something Percy had picked up in Ephesus was how to bleach his hair, so he quickly did it up and spoke with the guard. Philokrates told him that Sparta was fairing all right under Megapenthes, but it was certainly thriving under Menelaus, and before him, Tyndareus.

After visiting Mycenae, Percy went east of Anatolia, toward the lands of the Phoenicians and the ancient Iranians. He was glad when the bleach for his hair wore off, because he didn't feel comfortable in lighter hair. He liked his jet black hair.

There, he learned the written alphabet of the Phoenicians. Greeks used a linguistic known to the Phoenicians as Linear B. That was where he had spent a whole year learning both the Phoenician and Egyptian languages. It was long and gruelling but it paid off when he spoke to the public. His Phoenician was near fluent, but his Egyptian was still a little rusty. In turn, Percy began to analyze Linear B and started the process of creating a New Greek alphabet.

It would follow the same spoken language but would look different. There had to be a way to change the history books to tell future generations about myths in the language of ancient Greek. It would be hard, though. He needed to create individual letters for each sound. Percy decided twenty-four letters would suffice.

The Latium tribe had no written language, but rather decided to speak their stories. It was a different tradition; it was unorthodox. But Percy figured that if it worked for them, it was fine with him. He didn't care if they wrote stuff down or not. Most of the Greek population didn't know how to write anyway. Percy and Nicostratus had learned how to read and write. Megapenthes was too busy in the army for silly preoccupations such as education.

It was only then did he realize how valuable of an asset he was. He could fight. He could hunt. He could read. He could write. He held the authoritative tone. He knew what was good for Sparta and what was not. Sophia had been right. He would have been a good warrior or king.

It was seven days later when he arrived in Latium. The harbour there was quite small; it was the size of Argos' port if it had been split into eight equal parts. One of those eight parts was the port size. It could only hold a maximum of four galleys.

Percy was greeted nicely by the people at port. Many of them spoke in the Latin language, so he didn't understand most of what they were saying, but there were a few that quickly figured out that he was Greek.

It was a good thing that they knew Greek because without them, he would never be able to get around the city.

The absurd part of it was the fact that they'd determined that he was Greek so quickly. Were they psychic or something? Nothing about his complexion gave him away. He had dark hair, green eyes and dark skin. He could have been Phoenician or Thracian or Trojan.

"So what brings you to Latium?" one of them, a man, asked.

"Roaming the world," Percy lied. "I'm visiting as many places as I can. I've already been to Egypt and Phoenicia. Latium and Italia was my next destination."

There was a mysterious twinkle in the man's eyes. He turned to a friend and spat something in rapid-fire Latin.

Percy noticed that he was the only foreigner. All of the traders and merchants were staying on their boats.

"We should bring you to King Latinus," the man said.

And that was exactly what they did.

The group of people at the docks led Percy toward the main city, which was quite a ways away, even on horseback. They went upriver until they finally ran into a large city that was built in a very Greek-like style of architecture.

With a mix of the stone arcs of Troy and the Grecian columns of Hellas, the city looked quite beautiful in the glittering sunset. The columns were glistening white under the sun's rays, and the whole city looked as though it was glowing in a fantasy.

He entered the palace, which was much simpler than the palace in Sparta, and was led straight to the throne room. Many of the guards parted for him, as if he was a long-lost friend of the king's. There were servants and slaves rushing from room to room to make sure everything was in order. Apparently, a special guest had arrived. Percy felt honoured yet scared at the same time.

When he entered the throne room, he walked up to the foot of the king's throne and knelt.

"Rise, stranger," the king's voice spoke, smooth and silky. "Rise and state your business in Laurentum of Latium, land of the Latins of Italia."

Percy rose and took his first good look at King Latinus. The man was well-groomed and very handsome. Brown hair grew messily on his head, like a wild forest of uncontained vegetation. The sideburns grew thickly down the side of his face into the full-grown beard that he had. It decorated his jaw line, and continued through to meet at his chin, but two rivers of hair split up to circle around his mouth. The hair on his face, unlike the hair on his head, was well-groomed and cut evenly. Latinus' eyes were a warm brown colour, very much like that of a welcoming and generous king. They looked upon Percy with great joy, as if he was the first visitor they'd had in years.

To his right sat a beautiful, older woman with brown hair and bluish-grey eyes. She looked as friendly as Latinus did, except there was a harsh look in her eyes. One learned how to read people through their body language when travelling on his own. He lived and breathed the wilderness. He was a thief and liar himself. He could immediately tell that she did not like him. He didn't know what the reason was, but he was too afraid to ask. Disobeying the royal authorities was a death sentence. He'd been there too many times for his liking.

To Latinus' left sat a young woman, definitely older than him. She looked like she was in her early twenties. Percy wondered if Aeneas would marry her when he got here. She looked much like her father, though the facial build of her face was more slender and woman-like, like her mother. Percy wondered how she wasn't married yet.

"King Latinus," Percy said politely. "I am a traveller. I come from Hellas."

King Latinus raised an eyebrow. "I would never have guessed."

Percy's face burned at the embarrassing truth: he was speaking fluent Greek. Where else would he come from? But he covered up the embarrassment with anger. "I'm not feeling the sarcasm here, Lord Latinus. It's not funny."

The king sighed and leaned back into his throne. "All right. What is your name? Why are you here?"

"I am Perseus, but you can call me Percy. And I'm here because I am awaiting someone. I have learned of a prophecy, and am eager to intercept the man of it. It is stated that he will come to the lands of Latium and begin a wonderful civilization here."

Latinus exchanged a glance with his wife.

Latinus' wife spoke up next: "You speak as if it is not yourself. Do you have any idea who this mystery man may be?"

Percy lied and shook his head. "No, I do not. But I have heard the legends of a man and his crew roaming the ocean, looking for a place to settle. They are Trojans, the famous peoples of northern Anatolia. Troy has fallen in the Trojan War. The Greeks have completely annihilated them. Of those who are left, only Aeneas and Ascanius remain as royals."

"Aeneas and Ascanius?" questioned King Latinus. Percy got the feeling the king thought he was lying. But if the king did, he made no sign of it. He simply stood up from his throne and said, "My son, I will guide you around the city of Laurentum and introduce you to our culture."

"Um, okay."

Latinus was a nice man. Percy had nothing more to say about him.

"We call the land of my people Old Latium, or in our language _Latium Vetus_," King Latinus said as they toured the streets of the city. "Long ago we descended from Greeks, such as yourself, but moved from the Hellenic mainland to what was known back then as Ausonia. Now, it is Italia. The river that you travelled up upon is the Tiber River, as you may known. It runs all throughout our territory. It extends so much that it crosses into enemy territory. We do not dare leave our own in fear that our enemies will strike us down. Political factions are relatively peaceful in Italia, so we do not want to aggravate anybody in case they decide they want war."

Percy nodded, watching as kids chased each other through markets. It was much unlike his own childhood, which had been one of sparring and training. He was underfed and learned how to steal without being caught. It was why he was one of the better students. He'd begun stealing before anyone in his own age group had even thought about stealing.

"I live here with my wife and my only daughter, Lavinia. At times, I do wish my daughter could marry, but I have special instructions from…certain people. I cannot give up my daughter that easily. That being said, they did mention a foreigner. I never thought a Greek…I'd always assumed it would be someone from the far east."

Percy raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, what?"

King Latinus shook his head. "Never mind. Anyway, continuing with the tour…"

The tour of the city lasted until the sun set. The moon was clearly visible in the night sky when he arrived back at the palace. Percy had been given a guest quarters that he would be able to sleep in. He didn't object when Latinus offered the servants' constant aid.

As Percy set up in his sleeping quarters, the door cracked open and a head poked in. "May I come in?"

It was a female voice.

"Sure," Percy replied. "I'm just putting my bow and quiver away. You're not intruding on anything."

Percy heard footsteps approach, and when he turned around, he was met with the standing figure of Lavinia, King Latinus' daughter. She was wearing a dress made of some sort of foreign material. It cut off at her shoulders and knees, so it only covered her torso. She also wore a bracelet decorated with an assortment of jewels. Brown hair tumbled down her back, combed elegantly and recently washed.

"Hello, Perseus," she replied, bowing.

He rolled his eyes. "Call me Percy. I'm not a son of Zeus."

"Father calls Zeus…what is it now, Jupiter?" Lavinia said. "What a weird name. But—" She looked me in the eyes. "—I can tell you're not a son of Zeus. Not with those eyes. Demigods are rare around these parts. You will see them once in a while, but Hellas is filled with many more demigods than here in Latium."

"I guess." Percy flopped down on his bed. It was a collection of sticks and straw woven together. "So, what brings you here? Come to greet me formally?"

Lavinia nodded. "Yes."

"Well, there's no need for formalities. Whatever you usually do in public or around men…don't do it. I'm not a royal. I don't need any praise like that."

Lavinia sighed in relief. "You won't believe how much I hate trying to be polite all of the time. Sometimes I wish I was born a man. As a woman I cannot voice my thoughts or my opinions without getting shut down by a man. And most men who talk to me are suitors. They demand the utmost respect. It is a rather tedious job."

Percy smirked. "Your Greek is impeccable."

"I learned it before Latin," she said, shrugging. She sat down at my side. "Anyway, I was feeling bored as well so I wanted to talk to someone my age. Because there _has_ to be a legitimate reason as to why you came to Latium. No normal Greek would come here."

"Really? How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"Eighteen."

Lavinia's eyes scanned my body. "That's not surprising."

Percy frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I've seen my fair share of men," Lavinia admitted. "It doesn't shock me to see that you are only eighteen. You can still grow a bit more, even if it seems nearly impossible."

"Cool."

Lavinia nodded and turned to stare out the small window. It was far smaller than the window that Percy had had in Sparta, but it still worked. He could see outside and watch the city of Laurentum hustle and bustle.

"I've always dreamed to leave Latium. Perhaps one day find a foreign man who I can fall in love with and marry. You are lucky to be how old you are right now and travelling the world. Your life must be quite an adventure. Dangerous creatures that lurk out in the dark, ready to pounce and kill you. Thieves and criminals that can attack you at any second."

"It's much more than that," Percy said bitterly.

"Oh, really?" Lavinia questioned daringly.

Before he could stop himself, he began rambling about his past and all of the things that happened to him. "It all began in this village outside of Sparta. I was born to this Athenian woman who'd been exiled because she took part in a rebellion of some sort. And then she died when giving birth to me. Actually, I assume that it was a couple of days after, but nevertheless she died. So, King Tyndareus of Sparta decided to adopt me. When his eldest sons died, the heir to the throne was passed on to Helen of Sparta. You may have heard of her as Helen of Troy. She caused this massive war called the Trojan War in which my adoptive father, Menelaus, went to get his wife back from the Trojans who had seduced and abducted her. After they came back, I reunited with them, nine years of my life having passed. Menelaus died just two years ago, just a couple years after the war. The throne was passed on to his other children, Megapenthes and Nicostratus, whom Helen did not bear. They exiled her, and I chose to go with her. I chose family over power. I want revenge on Megapenthes and Nicostratus, but I'm biding my time. I'm creating backups just in case my plans fall through. So that's where I stand now. It's been two long years…but…"

"That must have been hard," she said sympathetically. "Did you leave Helen to stay in wherever you were exiled to?"

Percy's expression tightened. "Helen drinks damnation."

The dawn of understanding lit up her eyes, and she looked down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It is all right. It's better this way. I have to learn how to take care of myself. I need to understand how I can keep myself under control. I need self-regulation. Without Helen, I have to learn how not to act rashly. My anger…my temper is something that is hard to control. I often act on impulse and regret actions that I do end up taking."

Lavinia nodded and pressed her lips together. "So what are you going to do now?"

"I was thinking of waiting for Aeneas to arrive, to persuade him to join my cause…but what if that is not what I am meant to do. I feel like he is more of an enemy than a friend. I want retribution yet…"

"There is a part of you that is hesitating," she guessed.

"Yeah."

Lavinia nodded, as if she understood. But she couldn't understand. She'd never left Latium. "Sometimes the hardest things to do are the things that we believe we do not want. There is will. There is desire. And there is truth. Your will is what you do. Your will is what you exert. Your desire is what you fantasize of, what you believe you want to do. And your truth is your feelings inside. Your truth is what you want to act upon. I know you may think I'm speaking out of my own arse, but that is what I believe. That is how I see the world."

"I think…I think that everyone is entitled to their opinion. It's a shame women don't have the power to exert those opinions, though. Because from my own personal experience, I know that women are just as capable as men. And in a way, I agree with you. Everyone does have those aspects of them. They may wish for something, but they will not always get it. It's…deep."

Lavinia smiled shyly. "Thank you, sir."

"No problem, my lady."

"Lavinia!" The door slammed open, and an elated looking King Latinus entered the room. Percy bolted upright in the bed to face the man. "Perseus! There you two are. I have great news! Very, very, very great news!"

Percy and Lavinia shared a look. Lavinia said, "What is it, Father?"

"You two are being engaged! You will marry by the full moon!"

A look of horror passed over Percy's face as he turned to look at Lavinia. This was not supposed to happen. It was supposed to be Aeneas who should have been marrying Lavinia. It had to be the blood of a _Trojan_ and a Latin.

He squeaked, "What?"

* * *

**Another confusing, twisted chapter! Tell me if you think I should re-edit it. And tell me if I have any grammatical errors. But this should get a little interesting and heated. Percy hasn't really been connected to a girl before other than his [snake] inside her [garden], so I wanted to change that up. He's not going to sleep with Lavinia. He's just going to "marry" her. Won't that be interesting to wait for? Or perhaps you're getting tired of this story? You want to just close it and never read it again? I don't know, you guys tell me.**

**PLEASE, PLEASE when you review, actually give a little bit of insight as to what you think aside from "It's great!" I would greatly appreciate that. I'm surprised I even have this many reviews for a story. Usually at this point I'm at thirty to fifty. Anyway, review, vote on the poll, tell me how great I am (what?), and read my story.**

**Don't forget to call me out on grammatical and spelling errors.**

**Thanks,  
SharkAttack719**


	7. Escape

******Author'sNoteAtTheEnd.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Percy nervously sat down on the high chair as the wealthiest Latins watched him. To his left was Lavinia, who looked equally as shocked. They both glanced at each other, not expecting this.

In Sparta, Percy would been far too young to marry. Marriage was for seasoned, trained men. Not for young men with a lustful desire in women like in most other city-states. In fact, sometimes men had relationships with one another despite the fact that two men could not reproduce. It was a complicated system of society in which Percy was still used to.

He wished he could look into Lavinia's thoughts. She'd lived here for her entire life. She would know how to handle these situations…right?

When he first heard the news, he had thought about leaving Latium. He thought about fleeing, escaping, abandoning. There were so many possibilities. But instead, he settled to staying after Lavinia's constant pleading. She had hoped to go through with the situation together. It wasn't exactly reassuring when he saw her sitting there and staring out at the crowd with a look of worry and panic.

"Fellow nobles!" King Latinus called, standing up from his seat at Percy's side. "As King of the Latins, I have thought long and hard about my daughter's future. One day, she will rule our kingdom alongside a wonderful and handsome husband. However, I believe that day will soon come. As many of you know, my wife and I are aging quite quickly. We will not live on this Earth forever." He repeated that saying in his own language.

Lavinia grimaced at Percy's side. Slowly leaning towards her, he whispered, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she whispered back.

"So, I have declared that my daughter will wed our new friend, Perseus!" King Latinus decreed. He repeated it in Latin.

Half of the crowd applauded. Many just sat and stared. They either glared at the king, as if he'd done something wrong, or they stared blankly at Percy, as if he had no idea what was going on. And the applause was very half-hearted.

Latinus' wife stood up abruptly and said, in broken Greek, "You promised to Turnus Lavinia! Rutuli no will be happy about this. Turnus no will be happy." Then she went on to string on a whole bunch of curses in Latin. The way Lavinia acted to each word, Percy knew it must have been harsh.

"Amata!" King Latinus said affirmatively. "You will not disobey our daughter's happiness. I saw them speaking last night. She has never been more comfortable around any man. Percy will do well for us. And the gods tell me that a foreigner must marry Lavinia, not a man from Italia. He will come from lands far beyond and start a new kingdom. We will prosper."

Amata spoke another few curses.

"How many days until the full moon?" the king asked an advisor.

"Seven," Percy blurted.

All heads turned to him. He flushed.

"How do you know that?" asked the advisor, who had been about to respond.

"Well, last night was around a half moon, so it should be about seven days until the full moon. And…I, uh, studied the moon when I was in Phoenicia. Selene is quite an interesting goddess. She serves no purpose aside from being the moon. Essentially, she's regarded as the personification of the moon itself."

"Interesting," King Latinus mused. "Artemis is our lunar goddess."

Percy raised an eyebrow. "Really? She's your _lunar_ goddess? Wow, I can't imagine what kind of things you sacrifice to her. Back in Sparta, boys are scourged until Artemis' altar is splattered with blood. It is preferred that the boy dies. I've never been chosen simply because I was one of the princes. It was often the bravest boys who would go."

Everyone looked taken aback, even Lavinia.

"That is barbaric," Amata said indignantly. "How could you do such thing?"

Percy shrugged. "I didn't create Sparta. I only grew up there. And besides, I'm used to it. Spartans aren't considered cruel for nothing."

King Latinus raised an eyebrow but turned back to the crowd. He chanted something in his language, like a blessing or a prayer. He didn't repeat it in Greek, so Percy asked Lavinia what he was saying. She shook her head, as if it wasn't important. Percy figured it just had something to do with asking the gods in a prayer or blessing to give the two of them good luck in marriage.

He shivered at the thought.

Marriage still haunted Percy. He didn't want to be married. Maybe a couple of years ago, marrying at a younger age would have been better…but that was when life was normal. That was when he still lived in Sparta with Helen, Megapenthes and Nicostratus. That was when nothing was abnormal about the world. Now? Now, he was basically on the run. He hunted for food. He had to work for everything. He was getting everything that he'd wished for when he was Sparta. Never would he have thought that he wanted an equilibrium. Because everything comes with a price. Even freedom.

It wasn't that Lavinia wasn't pretty. It wasn't that at all. Just…the feeling of being tied down made him feel queasy. As much as he didn't want to live on the hunt all the time, he often enjoyed it and often basked in the glory of never having to follow the rules of others.

And if he got married, his name would spread through the words of the merchants and traders. Those in Hellas would hear about him again. There was no avoiding fame.

But here he was. He just sat there in shock as the whole idea came into full focus. In a week, he would be getting married. Just one week. There had to be some way out of this. There was no way that Lavinia would let him leave without reason. The people of Latium would despise him of that. He had to be driven out by the people…or an enemy.

Did the Latins have an enemy?

Soon, the announcement was completed, and the couple was let loose to do what they pleased. They were forbidden to consummate their marriage until the day of, which Percy was glad for. He didn't want to sleep with another girl before leaving her. He'd done that with Sophia. He'd done that with Helen. He was not going to do that with Lavinia.

Percy prayed that Aeneas would land here soon.

Unfortunately, what Percy didn't know was that Aeneas was all the way in this kingdom called Carthage having an affair with their queen, Dido. And he wasn't going to arrive for another eight days. But his luck would come in another way, because the greatest heroes have the rottenest luck. Their luck comes in pain and tragedy…but it is _always_ due to a deity. Often very specific deity.

* * *

Hera watched as Queen Amata of the Latins arrived at the palace of the Rutuli. Their leader, a young prince, was not expecting her arrival.

"_Queen Amata!_" Prince Turnus exclaimed in their language. "_What brings you here today?_"

"_Filthy Greek!_" Amata spat. "_There was a Greek who came to Laurentum yesterday. He is the one my foolish husband believes is the 'foreigner' that will marry my daughter. He is blind. Gods, pah! He is listening to the voices of the devils. He listens to the voice of demons. The Greek, Perseus, will ruin your wedding plans with Lavinia. My husband has declared that they will marry in seven days, on the full moon._"

Turnus stood up abruptly. "_What? Latinus hands _my_ bride-to-be off to a foreigner? How dare he!_"

"_That was what I said!_" Amata exclaimed.

_"What do you propose I do?_" Turnus asked in a panic. "_I cannot lose the heart of Lavinia._"

"_What else would you do? Fight him! Duel him! Spar him! He comes as a single man, without an army. You cannot declare war on him. Defeat him in an honourable battle._"

"_Is he good with a sword? Can he wield a blade like a master?_"

Amata snorted ignorantly. "_The Greek is a hunter. He wields a bow and two daggers. He is from Sparta, but challenge him to a duel with swords. Spartans are far superior in battle with spears rather than swords. He will not win. I assure you._"

Turnus gave her a doubtful look. "_I will listen to your analysis of the stranger, but I must bring everything I have and make a final decision for myself. And I will need the wisdom of King Mezentius before I even think about going into battle. If he thinks it is favourable for me to surrender Lavinia or not._"

"_That idiot is not wise_," growled Amata. "_Etruscans know little about battle._"

"_Yet they have conquered land like no other_," Turnus pointed out. "_Perhaps he is not wise but he can advise me far better than you can, my lady. He has fought in wars more than you can ever imagine._"

"_Do you not trust me?_" Amata fumed.

"_I trust you with all my heart, Queen Amata_," said Turnus, "_but I must get reassurance. I will stay in a village near Laurentum as Mezentius watches the boy. He will deliver his own analysis, and I will make my decision there._"

"_Very well. Do this so my daughter can marry you. We will both get what we want._"

"_Of course, Queen Amata._"

Hera, invisible to the mortals, whisked away to Olympus, bearing this news in mind. Never had she thought she would ever favour a demigod, but for the first time in eternity, it happened. And she needed to protect him from what was about to happen. She could see the outcome of the events. Over the years she had watched Perseus grow, he never used his sword unless he needed to. He would continue to use his bow like a hunter. But he could not rely on just a sword. He needed a shield.

For six days she mused, thinking of a plan of how to get Hephaestus to make a shield for her, because unless it was an emergency, the forge god would never do anything for the mother who had thrown him off Olympus. She was constantly distracted: her lustful husband's desires, the duty of ruling Olympus, the constant despondency of Perseus.

On the night before the seventh day, she went down to Gaea, to the land of the mortals, to watch as Turnus decided what he would do about the boy. Hera found him with Queen Amata and King Mezentius in a village residing half a day up the Tiber River.

King Mezentius was giving Prince Turnus his view on the young hero.

"_He can fight with a sword_," Mezentius said grimly. "_I see it in his body. He is probably deadlier with a spear. But I like your chances. Fight him with a sword, and you will likely win. Fight him with a spear, and you will likely lose. Fight him with whatever weapon you desire, you will definitely lose. Spartans…they are formidable opponents. Perhaps not as fierce as Myrmidons, but the Myrmidons no longer exist. They died with Achilles in the War of the East._"

Turnus gave Amata a pointed look to which she avoided. Looking calm, she said, "_So we will be able to ruin the wedding that my husband has planned for today?_"

Mezentius nodded. "_And Turnus…it looks as though neither of them _want_ to marry each other. Use words to throw him off. Perhaps you can make him leave without any bloodshed. Lavinia will not like it if blood is spilled._"

Turnus nodded. "_Very well. We leave at dawn._"

Knowing that her time was about to expire, she desperately called for Athena, the grey-eyed goddess. Athena came before her and looked calculatingly at her step-mother. She wore a simple grey dress embroidered with the design of an owl.

"Lady Athena, I need your assistance."

"What do you require, Hera?" Athena questioned.

"You know very well the relationship between Hephaestus and myself; however, I require something to be made by him. I believe you know the design I have been thinking of for the past few days. A magic shield that can compact into a bracelet. To a hero, I must give this shield, and you, Athena, are the patron of heroes."

The grey-eyed goddess nodded in understanding. "Of course, Hera. I will make sure that the duty is done."

And with that, Athena went off to Hephaestus' forges.

Athena's relationship with Hephaestus was not that simple either. The goddess shuddered at the lasting memory that was engrained into her godly brain of when Hephaestus tried raping her. It had been a normal day when she had decided to visit the smith-god to request some weapons. But right from the very start, she knew there was something wrong with him. He was looking at her weirdly. When he began to seduce her, he knew there was something definitely wrong. As much as raising a child would be nice, she wanted to maintain her virginity, so she fled. Hephaestus pursued her, and with that lustful desire, managed to catch her to rape her. She struggled with the strong smith-god until his semen fell on her thigh. In disgust, she grabbed a scrap of wool off of Hephaestus' belt and wiped it away. She flung it to the Earth and fled.

That had been five hundred years ago.

Athena had never looked at men in the same way. She wanted to keep her virginity, but she favoured men much like the other gods and goddesses. Only Artemis despised men, and that was only because of the stories of the Hunters of Artemis and her own story of Orion. Had she not had the Hunters with her, her hatred of men would have faded.

Still, she knew she had a job to fulfill to Hera.

As she arrived, Hephaestus gave her a weary glance. "Hello, Lady Athena. What brings you here today?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"I need a shield to be made for a hero," she replied coolly. She told him of the design and all of the plans. "Do you think you could do this before daybreak?"

"Easier than building an automaton," Hephaestus replied. "Wait outside a moment. Don't want to risk anything in the workshop." Athena nodded in understanding. Before she left, he noted, "By the way, you're looking mighty beautiful today."

She gave him a weak smile and left.

Trying not to remember the memory, she focused on the demigod who the shield was for. Perseus, or Percy as he liked to be called, was a son of Poseidon. He had grown up in a rather peculiar way. He was a Spartan, adopted by the royal family. So naturally, Athena grew to detest the prince of her enemy's land.

But recent events had changed her view on the boy. Even though he was a son of Poseidon, the sea god was still nice enough not to hold a grudge against her even after she won patronage of Athens, so that did not affect her opinion on Percy. The thing that had most changed her view was his hatred of Sparta's betrayal. He chose his family over power. That was rare in most men.

Like Hera, she favoured this boy. She remembered the conversation that he'd had with the Heracleidae under her statue in Athens. He devoted everything he did to try and destroy Sparta. He truly wanted revenge. Ares would not be pleased, and _that_ pleased Athena.

Athena waved her hand and the image of Laurentum appeared in the white clouds surrounding her. It was hard to believe that the boy was to be married to Lavinia, daughter of King Latinus, when it became dawn. The prophecy had pointed to Aeneas, one of the Trojans that had survived the Trojan War, and Athena believed it still pointed to Aeneas, but it was hard to think that Percy would not be attracted to a woman like Lavinia.

The smith-god soon appeared, a small bracelet in his hands. There were three beautiful gems on the bracelet that were shaped in ancient Greek, a new written form of language that Athena had so carefully brought to life. There was an Eta for Hephaestus and an Alpha for Athena.

"Here you go," the god said. "Good luck." Then, wanting to avoid any awkward conversation, he snapped his fingers and disappeared in a bright flash. Athena didn't bother to avert her eyes. It wouldn't kill her to look.

She snapped her own fingers, but instead of teleporting to another place, she had summoned the presence of Hera, the very goddess who was waiting for the bracelet to be finished.

"It is complete," Athena told Hera.

Hera nodded and twisted her hands around. She muttered an ancient enchantment and began to open up the image of Laurentum into something grander…something bigger. Athena realized that Hera was opening up the mind of Percy. They were going into his dreams.

And with a white flash, she was thrust into the demigod's mortal mind.

* * *

Percy had a weird dream that night. He was floating in darkness, suspended in mid-air. He wasn't even flying. He was just…still.

No sound reached his ears aside from his heavy breath, and he couldn't feel anything but the beating of his heart in his chest. He couldn't taste or smell or see anything. Perhaps this was what Tartarus was like: a cold, empty, desolate darkness.

But before he could ponder his thoughts more, a sudden blast of light filled his vision and a new scene grew around him.

He was standing on the street of a mystical city, one shrouded in mist and clouds, and two women were standing in front of him like goddesses: proud and mighty. One was an older woman, who appeared to be around a decade older than Helen, her brown eyes full of understanding and sympathy. The other was a younger woman, who appeared to be around his age. Her eyes were a cold grey, calculating and pretty and full of wisdom. Both were fairly light-skinned and both had dark hair.

"Dangers await you, son of Poseidon," said the older woman. "You will never be able to marry that woman Lavinia without opposition. Tomorrow you will find yourself in a quandary, one in which there is no escape."

"Fight or die," the younger woman said.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean? Who do I have to fight?"

"Fate has been determined," the old woman said. "Protect yourself with this, a gift from the gods and goddesses of Olympus."

The young woman stepped forward. She produced a bracelet from what seemed to be thin air and slipped it onto his hand. When she touched him, a sudden shock went through his body, as if divinity was touching him right then and there. He noticed carved gemstones decorating the bracelet. There were two familiar looking letters. With a shock, he realized that it was part of the ancient Greek alphabet that he'd devised. What if the gods had implemented the alphabet in _his_ mind to reveal to the mortal world? He saw an _Eta_ and an _Alpha_.

Looking back at the grey-eyed woman, he thought he figured out her identity, but before he could say anything, the older woman stepped forth and spoke, "When in most danger, press on the two letters and you will receive aid. When you fight, use this bracelet, called _Prostatis_, the Protector, to keep yourself away from harm's path."

"A gift from us to you," the younger woman said. "Use it wisely." There was a twinkle her eyes.

"Wait, what danger are you trying to protect me from?" Percy asked. "You sound like Nereus! It's all so sudden!"

The younger woman put a hand on his shoulder in sympathy. Her breath smelled like fresh virgin olive oil. "Knowing too much of your future is dangerous, hero. More often than not, you try to change your fate, which only causes more disaster. The less you know, the safer you are."

"Well that sounds totally normal," Percy said sarcastically.

"Farewell, hero. Remember to use it wisely."

"Wait. Wait!"

But they were gone. And when he woke up, he found that the gods had truly spoken to him, because the exact same bracelet was on the wrist of his non-dominant hand. The symbols _Eta_ and _Alpha_, for Hephaestus and Athena, glowed as reminders of the dream.

Something was happening today, and for some reason, he needed to be protected. He should have realized the marriage wouldn't have sat well with some people. And if they wanted to kill him, he would not go down without a fight.

* * *

The ceremony went exactly as Percy planned.

Everyone close to the royal family was invited to a feast at the king's palace. The doors were wide open, and sunlight streamed into the room, waiting to illuminate the "killer." Percy was wearing fancy Latin robes, though he kept a Greek _chiton_ on underneath, with his weapons readily accessible through a hole he tore in the fancy robes. He kept his back quiver slung, but his bow was unstrung. The thumb ring was still on his finger.

King Latinus looked absolutely delighted. Queen Amata looked absolutely scandalized. And Lavinia looked ravishingly beautiful.

The only difference between Greek weddings and Latin weddings was that consummation was always on the first day. That part freaked Percy out except for the fact that he knew someone would be stepping up. Unless the goddesses that appeared in his vision were lying. They could have been tricking him.

But no. Athena had looked too sincere.

The day passed quickly, and much celebration had occurred. Percy sacrificed to the gods, praying for a sign of help soon, and graciously declined most of the presents that the wealthy people presented him with. It reminded him far too much of his life as a royal in Sparta.

It was sunset, and King Latinus was just about to declare Percy and Lavinia for their consummation when a dozen men stepped through the front doors of the banquet room. All of them were wearing some form of armour and most were threateningly wielding their weapons. It was almost as if the guards had allowed them in.

"Latinus!" boomed a voice, and everyone froze.

Slowly, the crowd parted and created a direct aisle from the group of men to King Latinus, who was staring in shock at the unexpected visitors. Amata looked devious, as though she was expecting them. In a way, Percy was glad, because he wouldn't have to consummate the marriage with Lavinia, and therefore wasn't married…at least, not technically. Legally, he could be considered married.

"Turnus?" questioned Latinus, who was so stunned he continued in Greek. "What are you doing here?"

Turnus furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. "I…come here…to stop…wedding." He growled and then continued in Latin. "_You promised to me Lavinia. Give me, Lavinia. Mine is she._"

Percy cocked his head to the side, his ears not picking up Latin very well.

"_It is fair_," Amata spoke up, also in Latin. "_You promise Turnus her._"

"Duel!" Turnus suggested in Greek, pointing his sword at Percy. "I duel for Lavinia!"

King Latinus went wide-eyed. "But no! You…you cannot duel for Lavinia's hand in marriage! _I no promised. I give offer. No same thing!_" Then he went into a complicated string of words that Percy couldn't understand.

Lavinia's breath warmed his ear. "My father said that it is unacceptable for him to storm in here and crash the wedding festival between us. We were about to consummate, and my father doesn't think that Turnus has the right to barge into here and disrupt the ceremony. I'm sure you picked up _some_ of that. Your ability to learn languages is quite…great."

Percy nodded, not taking his eyes off of the arguing pair of men. It was clear that Turnus was the less experienced politician. He looked barely older than Lavinia. Perhaps a couple years at most. "Lavinia, you trust me, right?"

"Yes," she replied.

"And you don't think I'm crazy?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered.

He turned to her. "We've barely known each other. I have only been here for eight days, and that is not enough to fall in love. That being said, your destiny has been woven in a different path. You are not to marry me but a Trojan. His name is Aeneas. Trojans speak Greek and Hittite, so I'm sure you'll be able to learn how to understand him. But because of this, I need a way to leave. You didn't want me to leave because it would look too suspicious. _This_ is my chance. I kill someone and flee because I'm a murderer."

"It is a duel," Lavinia reminded him. "It is expected that one man dies."

"Then I'll kill one of the guards," Percy said. "It doesn't matter. Just make sure…with whatever happens, I will be thankful for your hospitality."

Lavinia licked her lips nervously. "All right. And thank _you_ for helping me understand who a hero is." She pulled his face in with two hands and kissed him. It was short, brief and blissful. "Good luck in your journeys, Perseus."

He grinned at her before turning to Turnus, who had now enlisted the help of Queen Amata and one of the men at his side. "Hey, Turnus. I'll duel you."

The four who had been arguing suddenly went silent. King Latinus looked disbelieving. "What? Percy, you didn't just—"

"He did," Amata said gleefully.

Turnus smiled grotesquely. "Then duel. Swords. No spears. No bows. Swords and shields. Deal?"

Percy tore the fancy robes right off. Tossing them aside, he felt a lot lighter in his Greek _chiton_. He wished he had armour, but he'd survived all these years without armour. Only the water had saved him in previous adventures. There was no water he could crawl to here. If he was struck fatally…

_Item number one on the checklist: get light armour_, Percy thought.

"Deal, sir," Percy replied.

"Mezentius," Turnus said, turning to the man who had been arguing, "give him sword and shield."

"It's all right," Percy said, waving them off. "I have my own weapons. He pulled Anaklusmos out of its sheath and said, "_Xiphos_." It slowly elongated into the familiar bronze sword that he'd dearly missed over the past week and a day.

The half mortal bronze and half Celestial bronze sword glowed as he held it in an offensive position.

_When in most danger, press on the two letters and you will receive aid. When you fight, use this bracelet, called _Prostatis_, the Protector, to keep yourself away from harm's path._

_Prostatis_ could only mean one thing: protector. And what protected him from harm? Armour, yes, but that's not the one! A shield.

So Percy pressed the two letters down, and to his surprised, they clicked into place. As quickly as a viper, the metal sprung out from the bracelet in a large circle. It was bronze as well, and Percy figured it was very much like Anaklusmos. Prostatis didn't look as scary as Aegis did, but he thought it was very intimidating.

Instead of Medusa's head carved into the shield, it was the image of a very distant creature. It was called a griffin. The creature had the body, tail, and back legs of a lion, and the head and wings of an eagle; and an eagle's talons as its front feet. It was a majestic and powerful creature comprised of two very important animals: the lion was the king of the beasts and the eagle the king of the birds. Only one griffin existed in the world, and no hero had ever gone on a quest to find it. In the carving on Prostatis, the griffin's wings were outstretched, as if it was about to attack someone, its face and eyes glaring at anyone who stared at the shield. The lion's hind legs dangled in the background behind the outstretched talons, which assumed the position of being ready to grab the assailant to tear him or her to shreds.

Percy assumed battle stance that every Spartan warrior was taught growing up. He put his non-dominant foot forward, took a small pace back with his dominant foot, lined Prostatis up with his front toes, leaned forward to brace, and held Anaklusmos up, its point bristling over the shield's edge. His elbow was pointed backward and up, and his knees were bent for better balance.

Turnus glanced at Mezentius warily, and Mezentius stepped back, shock clearly written across his face and eyes. In fact, no one in the room had expected it at all. Everyone was stunned. Even Lavinia.

Turnus assumed his own battle stance.

The other men in the room pushed all of the women and children to the side and created an empty space in the center for the two duellers. Percy gave an encouraging nod to Lavinia, who understood the message. He turned back to Turnus. "All right, Turnus, whoever you are. Let's dance."

Turnus growled. "I am King of Rutuli! And we fight! Not dance!"

"It's a saying," Percy said, rolling his eyes. "Though I'm pretty sure you've got like no sense of humor."

"And you do?" aruged the King of the Rutuli.

"Nope."

Turnus paused in confusion, and Percy took that opportunity to strike. He slashed at Turnus' shield side, which Turnus easily blocked. Then, Percy slammed Prostatis into Turnus' chest and stabbed forward with Anaklusmos. Unfortunately, Percy was met with metal armour. He'd stabbed just a little too high; a couple daktyloi lower and he would have pierced thick leather.

Recovering from the surprise, Turnus roared (He didn't have a helmet.) and lunged forward. His sword grazed Percy's thigh, but the cut burned. The son of Poseidon winced as he retreated. Leaping back, he parried a strike from Turnus with Anaklusmos before twisting their swords and sending them both clattering to the floor.

Though they went in opposite directions, Percy body-slammed Turnus for extra measure before running after his weapon. Without heavy armour, Percy got to his weapon before Turnus could even get up. Luckily for Turnus, he still had a shield.

Percy tried to force the King of the Rutuli away from his sword, but Turnus was excellent in manoeuvring around the fighting space. Eventually, he pressured Percy into allowing him to retrieve his weapon, and they were back on even terms. This was Percy's first real test in fighting. He'd never met an equal in combat before.

That was mainly because he hadn't fought anyone with a sword who was older than him, other than the militia-man in Rhodes. Everyone else he'd killed with his daggers or his bow.

Turnus feinted to one side, and Percy bit. Quickly swiping, Turnus cut through the brace of his sword arm. Since it was designed to withstand the snapping of a drawstring, not the blade of a sword, it gave way. No harm came to Percy's arm, but the brace was far too damaged to ever be used again.

Percy was so stunned at the fact that his brace was gone that he couldn't dodge the strike that came to his abdomen. He managed to avoid the worst of it, but it slashed through his _chiton_ and grazed his lower ribs. Pain shot up his side, but he kept on fighting.

He leaped back and held Prostatis up to protect himself. Turnus struck the shield as hard as he could, making Percy's arm rattle numbly. Turnus struck the shield again, and Percy stumbled backward. If he was hit a few more times, he was done. Turnus would kill him.

_So much for getting out of here_, he thought.

But just as he was about to give up, another part of his mind spoke up: _You swore that you would get your revenge on Sparta, no matter the cost. Are you just going to give up this easily? Are you going to let yourself die?_

Percy shook himself into the present. A hero wouldn't just die like this. Heracles wouldn't have accepted death. Neither would Theseus. Or Jason. Or even the original Perseus. They would have fought for their right of peace and serenity.

Before he knew what was happening, Anaklusmos had impaled Turnus through the foot, and the King of the Rutuli was lying on his back with his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. Percy was breathing heavily and brought his sword up for the kill, when one of the harbourmasters came running into the room, clearly exhausted from running.

"_King Latinus!_" he said. "_Another foreign boat!_"

"Aeneas," Percy muttered under his breath. Glancing back at Lavinia, he nodded his farewell, before he ran for the exit.

"Where you go?!" Turnus yelled. "Kill me! Stop him!"

A couple of Turnus' guards stood forward to stop him from leaving, but he ignored the pain at his side and quickly stabbed one of them through the throat and drove his sword right up the abdomen of the other. Tearing Anaklusmos out, he shouted, "_Makhaira_!"

Anaklusmos morphed back into a dagger as Percy ran. He strapped it to his belt and poured on the speed. He was halfway across Laurentum when he realized that he'd left his bow and quiver back in the palace. Wincing, he realized that he would never be able to get them back. Quickly making his way to the stables, Percy stole a horse and rode off to the harbour.

And by the time he'd stolen a boat and began sailing into the sunset, the cries and shouts of the Latins behind him had faded into the back of his mind. He quickly tore off his _chiton_ and used it to help bind wound, though his manhood was now exposed and very, very cold. Percy looked up at the flag of the ship he'd stolen and sighed. It was a simple image of a horse with an Eastern-helmeted rider on its back. That symbol…Percy knew all too well.

It was the symbol of Troy. And Turnus was in for one hell of a war.

* * *

**Hey, everybody! Here's another chapter for all of you to indulge in. I don't want to linger in Latium for too long, so I made this a quick double chapter expedition. Don't worry, the next chapter is all about explaining Hera and Athena's motives for all of this. And also a bit about Poseidon. Oh, no! Percy lost his bow! Well, I'm sure he'll find a replacement soon (*wink* ;D hint ;D *wink*). So, tell me what you think of this chapter!**

**And also, I found this really great quote...the only problem is that it wouldn't make sense to put it in the story at this point. What do you think I should do? Wait until the end? Or reveal it, and have Percy slowly understand its true meaning?**

**Next, anything in Italics is in the language of the Latins, which I just claimed is Latin when it truly isn't. When it is Percy's limited omniscient perspective, the Latin will be broken, as if he can barely understand it, which is acceptable since he's only been there for like eight days. I even enhanced his understanding unrealistically to benefit you guys.**

**Fourth, I jumped perspectives.**

**Fifth, vote for my poll if you haven't already.**

**Sixth, please review, even if you're a guest. Just stop by and tell me how you think this story is going.**

**Seventh, anything in normal font spoken by Turnus or Amata is broken because they can't speak Greek that well.**

Eighth, is a disclaimer! I do not own mythology. I do not own mythological or historical characters. I do not own Percy Jackson. I own most of the plot, and I admit that I have changed mythology...altered it to suit this story. What happens in real mythology does not happen in this story or happens at a different time. I'll give you a hint! Aeneas is not supposed to arrive in Latium for another four years. Menelaus is not supposed to be dead. Helen is not supposed to be dead. The Heracleidae I have introduced into the story are not supposed to appear for another half a century. Orestes is supposed to rule; neither Megapenthes nor Nicostratus should have any power over the Spartan throne for any extended period of time. Orestes is supposed to be younger. Hermione is supposed to be younger. Yaddy, yaddy ya.

**PLZ READ STUFF IN BOLD. THX! STUFF NOT IN BOLD IS IMPORTANT AS WELL THO!**

**SharkAttack719**


	8. Blinded

**Author'sNote TheEnd.**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

The seas had brought Percy to Carthage, a land connected to Libya by land but was much closer to Sicily. He spent a year there and learned of the Carthaginian dialect, which was quite similar to Phoenician but had its few differences.

Percy learned of Dido's suicide after Aeneas' departure. He also learned of Aeneas' adventures after fleeing Troy.

He built a fleet of ships with the remaining survivors, in which only one managed to arrive at Carthage, and they made landfall at various locations throughout the Mediterranean: Thrace, where they found the last remains of a fellow Trojan, Polydorus; The Strophades, where they encountered the harpy Celaeno; Crete, which they believed to be the land where they were to build their city (but were set straight by Apollo); and Buthrotum. In Buthrotum, Aeneas met Andromache, the widow of Hector. She was still lamenting the loss of her valiant husband and beloved child. There, too, Aeneas saw and met Helenus, one of Priam's sons, who apparently has the gift of prophecy.

In Buthrotum, Helenus told Aeneas of the destiny that has been laid out for him: he was divinely advised to seek out the land of Italia (also known as _Ausonia_ or _Hesperia_), where his descendants would not only prosper, but in time rule the entire known world.

After leaving Buthrotum, Aeneas headed out into the open sea and made his way around Italia's boot and made his way toward Sicily. Very much like Jason and the Argonauts, they were caught in the whirlpool of Charybdis and driven out to sea. Dido's sister, Anna Perenna, told Percy that they reached the home of "the Cyclops," who he later learned was called Polyphemus. They had met a Greek there, Achaemenides, one of Ulysses' men, who had been left behind when his comrades escaped the cave of Polyphemus.

It was only when Percy left did he realize that Ulysses was Odysseus.

Shortly after the Trojans rescued Achaemenides, Anchises died peacefully of old age. Then, he arrived at Carthage. Anna Perenna told Percy that Dido fell in love with Aeneas at the mere sight of him, and since his previous wife Creusa had died—presumably back in Troy—he fell back in love with her. They coupled during a hunting expedition, and Dido took this as a sign of marriage.

But the gods had other plans. Aeneas and Dido were not meant to be. Their fates were not intertwined for long. Somehow, the gods influenced Aeneas to leave, and he abided. With her heart broken, Dido committed suicide by stabbing herself upon a pyre with the sword she gifted Aeneas when he first arrived.

Anna Perenna told Percy that Dido had predicted eternal strife between Aeneas' people and hers. That was only eight days ago, right when Percy had arrived in Latium.

Of course, Anna Perenna offered Percy an opportunity to stay in Carthage until death, but he refused politely. He could not promise anyone anything anymore. After Latium, he knew he would bring pain, suffering and trouble to whoever he stayed with. It was better if he cut his ties with society. The single, most important thing to remember for him was that the race that he was racing had the prize of Megapenthes' and Nicostratus' head.

It was the right thing to do. He knew it. They always say heroes are the people that they want to be. If that was true, then his belief in family was much more important than any power that the world could offer.

Still, he felt uncertain about the dark path that he walked.

It was lonely, cold and desolate. It was full of his own pain, his own suffering, his own troubles. He was teetering on the very edge of good and bad.

Percy made it back to Argos on his birthday. He was nineteen.

Sailing in on the old Trojan boat, Percy took a look at the new sail that he'd designed specifically for the arrival back in Hellas. He'd taken down the design of the Trojan horse and warrior. Instead, he had the symbol of the pomegranate woven into the fabric. He planned to land in Argos, and since Hera was Argos' patron, the pomegranate made the most sense.

As he approached the docks, he made himself seem extremely weary and tired, which wasn't very hard. He didn't even bother to stop the boat, and the wood crashed into the shore. It wasn't like he cared. The Trojan galley was anything but impressive.

Percy was so tired that he nearly fell into the water when he stumbled out of the boat and collapsed to the deck, exhausted from the journey. As he slowly fell into unconsciousness, the worried face of a very familiar man appeared in his vision. And without any struggle, the man picked him up and carried him away.

But Percy didn't know if he was going for help or if he was going to kill him.

* * *

Percy woke up in a rather fancy bed after having the worst nightmare of his life. He had been chased until he reached the edge of a cliff. Having nowhere else to go, he leaped off without a single clue about what awaited him down below. And in the middle of falling, he'd woken up.

The scariest part was the fact that they taunted him about Helen and his worthlessness. They were hitting his weak spots. But it was just a dream. It wasn't real. It _couldn't_ be real.

Percy looked around a saw a tub of water in the corner of the room. He got up from the bed, wincing as the soreness and pain shot up his body. Weirdly, the whole world felt slower around him, and the soreness and pain wasn't as harsh as he'd expected it to be. Sluggishly, he made his way to the tub of water to wash his face. He signed in content as the cold liquid made contact with his face. Water always felt natural and good, whether he was dry or wet. It always energized him.

Feeling a little less dead, Percy turned around and nearly feinted in shock. On a thin fabric lay a young girl, a servant or a slave, sleeping peacefully and happily. She looked around nine or ten, with naturally light hair. Percy certainly did not expect to wake up to that sight. It reminded him too much of…of Sparta.

He reached for his belt, which held his coins and gems, both Greek and foreign, but it wasn't there. Alarmed, his eyes went as wide as golden drachmas (which were barely smaller than his cupped palm). That meant neither were Anaklusmos and Katoptris. His two most deadly weapons weren't there. Then, he went to his wrist and sighed in relief. Prostatis was still there. And the one thing that he'd learned from Spartan training was that unless you had absolutely no choice, choose the shield over other weapons because it was hard and heavy enough to knock someone out with well-placed strikes.

Percy hit the letters, and Prostatis sprung out to its true form.

Suddenly, the servant girl woke up and shot up in her…"bed." She immediately bowed down at his feet and looked up, anticipating that he was going to give her an order to do something. Percy had the feeling that she thought he was like royalty or something. But there was no possible way for her to know that he used to be royalty.

The doors swung open, and the servant girl scrambled back toward him in what seemed like fear.

The man at the door stunned Percy. The demigod had not expected him to be here in Argos. In fact, he was pretty sure that the King of Mycenae ruled _Mycenae_ not Argos.

"Percy!" Orestes exclaimed happily. "_Di immortales_, you've grown so much! You're a real man now. Nineteen. I never would have imagined that things went the way they did, with you leaving with Aunt Helen and all."

Percy knit his eyebrows. "What are you doing here?"

"You've been gone for too long, cousin," Orestes grinned. "Cylarabes died, so I decided to take Argos under my wing before Megapenthes and Nicostratus try and control it. Those two have very ambitious plans now. But being five years younger than Nicostratus, I don't have the power to fight them head on." He turned to the servant girl. "Lydia! Get Percy some drinking water. Now!"

The servant girl rushed to the door, but Percy shouted, "Wait!"

Lydia stopped. She turned around, expecting another order.

Instead, Percy said, "You don't have to do anything for me. Just…do whatever you want for the rest of the day unless you are not allowed to. Find someone to talk to…or roam the palace. Do whatever is legal."

Orestes raised an eyebrow. "Percy…"

"Let her go," the son of Poseidon said affirmatively. "This is not how we should be treating innocent people. Kill them if they are Spartan or murderous. But _do not_ if they bring you no harm. Just monitor her so she doesn't do what the helot did, or we'll have to kill her."

"Please, don't kill me," Lydia said in a timid voice. "My…my family died in Sparta. You said…kill 'them' if they are Spartan. Why?"

Percy glanced at Orestes. "Well, it's a long story."

"You said I can do what I want," the young girl said stubbornly. "I want to know that story. And those names—Megapenthes and Nicostratus—sound like the people who killed my dad and my mom and my brother. Were those two kings three years ago?"

"Yes, they were," replied Percy. "How—why was your family killed?"

The girl's face darkened. "They declared war on all helots. For a couple days every year, the Spartans get to kill as many helots as possible. Everyone is too scared and too weak to fight back. Only I survived because I was the youngest. My brother killed a Spartan, but fell first. My mother fell last. I was hidden in a ditch outside."

"Declare war?" Percy asked, wide-eyed.

Orestes nodded grimly. "Yes. It's part of why I don't like those two. They send the rest back to the fields and force them to reproduce. It is ineffective. Soon, there won't be any helots left for Spartans to live off of. To think they could have gotten any shallower when they exiled Helen…I still cannot believe that they invented such a thing. It was fueled by the anger that they felt when you left. Philokrates told me he managed to bring a group of helots to Mycenae. All of them have been adopted by wealthy families, most to be servants and slaves, like Lydia here."

"Servant or slave?" asked Percy.

"Servant. I allow her to pay for her own food. I would assume she wouldn't want to be fed the same thing every day like most of the other servants have been."

"So, you give her money."

"What else is she going to do with it? She is a ten year old girl."

Percy glanced at Lydia, who was watching and listening intently. "You'd be surprised that the women I've met are very, very thoughtful and insightful. Though, I'm sure the only woman you would listen to is Hermione."

"That's not true," Orestes exclaimed hotly.

"Orestes!" Hermione's voice shouted from somewhere outside. "Orestes, is Percy all right? I hear him speaking!"

Within a shortly paused moment, Hermione, daughter of Helen and Menelaus, appeared in the doorway and smiled brightly when she saw him awake. Rushing up, she hugged him and kissed his cheek. "Oh, Percy! I'm so glad that Orestes found you at the dock. You looked like you were dying. Don't tell me you tried to exert yourself too much."

"He sailed here all alone," Orestes told her. "There's no way the boat could have sailed itself. He was controlling it. And you know his dad…"

A look of understanding passed over Hermione's face. Then she turned to Percy. "Well, it is nice seeing you again, brother. And holy Zeus, you are tall. Much taller than the average man. Where did you go to make yourself double your height?"

"That's quite an exaggeration," Percy said. "But, I guess I am rather tall for a Greek man." Looking at Orestes, Percy realized that he could look down on him. He could see the crown of Orestes' head without having to incline his head.

Then he glanced at Lydia, who was still staring in fascination and wonder. "Hey, Lydia. Do you want to hang out with Hermione today? I mean, I'm not exactly doing what a normal girl does. If you want, you can go learn from Hermione."

"That's a great idea," Hermione said. She turned to the other girl. "How does that sound?"

"Um, sure," replied Lydia timidly.

"All right, come on, you little she-devil!" Hermione reached down to pick the girl up, and carried her off. Percy could hear their laughter echoing from down the halls as they faded further into the palace.

"She would make a good wife for someone someday," Orestes noted. "Perhaps I should adopt her into the royal family. Make her more appealing. It would be good to have another girl like you, would it not Percy?"

The son of Poseidon shrugged. "It doesn't matter. So, how's your son doing?"

"You know?"

"Well, Philokrates didn't really comment on the annual war against helots, so I didn't learn about that. But he _did_ tell me that you and Hermione have a son called Tisamenus. At the moment he would be about…two and a half years old? He was born around the winter solstice, was he not? I assume you two had sex at the festival celebrating Megapenthes' coronation thing."

"Percy!"

"What? What's wrong with mentioning sex? You're not…embarrassed are you?"

"Of course not! But you didn't have to bring that up."

"Well, I'm sorry if I know how to not get women pregnant even after intercourse."

"Just be quiet, Percy!"

The son of Poseidon grinned. "Why should I?"

"Why _shouldn't_ you?"

"Because I like annoying you?"

"I will have you executed if you dare say another word in a tone of mockery."

Percy gave him a resigned sigh. "So how's your son doing?"

Orestes sighed himself and shrugged. "Great, I guess. Being back and forth between Argos and Mycenae has been quite stressful. At the moment, Philokrates and his team are guarding Tisamenus back in Mycenae while Hermione and I stay here. I do worry sometimes because I cannot see him at all times."

Percy nodded sympathetically. "I wouldn't know how that feels but…"

"I don't need any pity," the King of Mycenae said. "Pity is for the weak."

The son of Poseidon snorted. "For the weak? Anyone who says they don't need pity is not a hero or a leader. It means they are prideful. A man, or a woman, must be big enough to admit their mistakes, smart enough to profit from them, and strong enough to correct them. What is a human without faults? It is only if we admit that we are not perfect that we will be able to prosper forth."

"And you?"

Percy gave him a small, resentful smile. "I am temperamental, restless and prideful. My life's devotion runs along a dark path of revenge and death, and I continue on this same path even when the road forks. I care for others deeply, yet I believe that the best way to keep everyone safe is if they allow me to do what I want and not get in my way. Despite knowing this, I still act like this. Why? Because that is who I am. And if I can't embrace it, I cannot live being someone else."

"Then how will you prosper forth?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

Orestes shook his head. "All right, enough with the philosophy. I do believe that it is time for the midday meal. Your weapons and belt are under your bed. I will see you down there soon, all right. Try not to scare anyone while you stay here, cousin."

Then he swooped royally out of the room.

Percy hit the eyes of the griffin, and Prostatis shrunk back down into a bracelet. Then he peeked under the bed and grabbed his weapons. Strapping the belt to his waist, he checked to make sure Orestes hadn't robbed him of any money or gems, and put Katoptris and Anaklusmos in their respective sheaths.

It felt odd not to have his bow and quiver with him, but he knew it was his own fault for leaving the weapon back in Italia. He knew that without proper training it would be a long time before the Italians figured out how to use reflex bows, and Percy doubted that Aeneas knew how to work one. He was supposed to be a soldier, not an archer or hunter.

Percy figured that he would start making another one as soon as he was done eating the meal and after he sacrificed to the patron goddess of the city, Hera. It wouldn't be hard to find animal adhesive from Orestes, and the wood could be trimmed by Katoptris or Anaklusmos. Their blades were strong and sharp enough to do the job.

Enjoying the meal, Percy got to know the situation around Hellas a bit better. Nestor still thrived as the king of Pylos with little changes happening there. Megapenthes and Nicostratus ruled Sparta. Orestes had control of Olympia, Argos, Corinth, Mycenae and Thebes. Athens was still controlled by Demophon. Basically, nothing much had changed.

The only difference was that tensions were growing between the city-states. Demophon was beginning to grow hatred for Megapenthes and Nicostratus, and the same went vice-versa. Nestor's health was ailing as he aged, and it was rumored that the heir to the throne in Pylos was Aretus, one of the middle sons of Nestor, though Thrasymedes was the first in line for it. Also, Orestes was beginning to develop a name for himself in the hearts of revolutionists and rival kings.

After having the meal, Percy went to Hera's temple to sacrifice to the patron goddess. He brought some fruit to the altar and prayed for thanks from the goddess. He was about to turn around and leave when a voice froze him in his spot:

"Hello, Perseus."

The voice was oddly familiar. It sounded like a woman's voice.

Slowly, he turned around and watched as a dark-eyed woman approached him. He knit his eyebrows when he saw the woman's face. She looked about as familiar as her voice sounded. He noticed that her long brown hair was woven into a braid with gold ribbons. Her dress was a simple white color that rippled like oil on water when she moved. She was tall, graceful, and very beautiful. Her stance was regal, as if she was queen, but she looked kind and friendly.

"Um, who are you?" Percy asked bluntly.

The woman smiled. "My name is an anagram of my mother's name, Rhea. And I'd like to believe that my name derives from the word defender or protector. I was raised around here a long time ago, though I was born on what is called Samos nowadays."

"Rhea?" Percy asked. He knit his eyebrows again. "Hear…hare…aher…Hera…" His eyes widened. "Hera." Then, he bowed in front of the goddess.

"There is not a need to bow, hero," the goddess said softly. "You have already proven yourself worthy."

The son of Poseidon stood up hesitantly. "Proven myself worthy? Worthy of what?"

"My favour," Hera said. "You see, I do not normally favour demigods, especially those of my brothers and my husband. Jason, of the Argonauts, was a mortal and was why I had chosen him to favour. Unfortunately, he broke his promise to Medea in the end, and I withdrew my divine help that had helped keep him alive throughout his adventures. Without my aid, he died alone and unhappy."

"Yeah, I heard that story."

"But it is uncommon for a demigod to earn my favour. You proved to me that it is not impossible for me to favour demigods such as yourself. Normally, I brand demigods offspring of their unfaithful godly parent, mainly children of Zeus, Poseidon and Hades. And to say I had expected you to do what you did would be false. I did not anticipate that you would sacrifice power for a mere mortal such as Helen, who was a daughter of my faithless husband. Still, you showed great compassion for family, and that is what matters."

"Oh, well…" Percy wasn't sure what to say. He was worried that he might offend the goddess if he said the wrong thing. "Thank you, Lady Hera."

"As a thanks, I have brought you a little present from both your father and I, with Athena and Hephaestus' help, of course."

She held up her palm and the air suddenly glimmered. Slowly, the light began to intensify until Percy couldn't stand to watch any longer. When he closed his eyes, there was a brilliant flash, and then darkness. Carefully, he opened his eyes and his jaw nearly dropped in surprise.

In Hera's hand was a bow…_his_ bow.

Gently taking it from the goddess' hand, he recognized that it was the same wood that he'd crafted his previous bow out of. Percy wondered if Hephaestus had used an Olympian version of adhesive to keep it glued together. The bow's limbs were painted black, its grip forest-green, and stripes of sea-green all along the wooden length. The bowstring was fresh and better than ever. It was taut even when he hadn't drawn it back, and he realized that it had been adjusted for his newfound strength of his nineteen year old body.

Just as began to think about how he would stow the weapon away, it suddenly vanished from his hands, and he looked at Hera in worry and confusion. "Where did my bow go?"

"You do not need to worry, Percy," Hera said soothingly, like a mom to her child. "A part of the bow's magic is that it disappears when you do not need it. When you wish to use it, it will appear in your grip. Why don't you test it out to see how it works?"

"Okay…" Percy thought about using his bow to shoot at a target, and to his surprise the bow shimmered back into existence, and by reflex, he pulled back on the bowstring, ready to fire an arrow. His eyes widened in fascination. "Wow. That's actually pretty cool."

"Your quiver has different magical properties," said the goddess. "It will not disappear when you desire; however, you may summon an unlimited amount of arrows, both mortal and Celestial bronze. And even silver arrows, should the right occasion arise."

"Where is it?" he asked eagerly.

She summoned it and handed it to him.

Strapping it to his back, he quickly familiarized himself with its size and weight. Reaching back, he felt thin air. Frowning, he thought about group of five regular bronze arrows, and he could suddenly feel wood and feathers. He pulled a single arrow out, notched it, and fired it straight out the door. It flew smoothly and accurately. Looking outside, he grinned as he hit exactly what he wanted to hit. The arrow splintered as it crashed into the marble column.

He willed the arrows away and bowed to the goddess. "Thank you, Lady Hera. Thank you very much."

"I do believe a colleague of mine has words for you," the goddess said. "I will allow her to speak on her own behalf. Avert your eyes." She snapped her fingers, and Percy averted his eyes. There was a bright flash, and then the presence of the goddess changed.

Subconsciously, Percy had noticed that there was a regal, godly aura around the room. Now, the aura was tense, and he could sense the thoughts of a wise goddess. Her whole expression was stern when he saw her, and those grey eyes bore into him like daggers. Her dark black hair tumbled down her shoulders in waves.

"Lady Athena," he greeted.

She inclined her head.

"What is it that you wish to speak with me about?" he asked.

"Your bravery and boldness is quite daring, son of Poseidon," Athena said critically. "It could have gotten you killed many times on the trip. Have you not already endured some suffering? And it has only been three years. Many things can happen in three years."

"Bravery and boldness is what? Standing up for what I believe?"

"Wise counsel does not always believe in faith in a specific group of peoples. That is why it is quite unpopular with many of the other gods and goddesses. However, I speak the careful truth and the best possibilities…the most likely possibilities. You will not have an easy adventure, Percy. There will be much loss, grief, death and internal struggle that you must contend with on your journey."

"That makes me feel better. I mean, Hera got me a bow and a quiver. This is a _lot_ more depressing."

"Everything comes with a price."

"Everything _does_ come with a price, doesn't it?" It wasn't a question. It was more like a resigned statement.

Athena gave him a small smile. "But I know that you will be able to survive and learn from many of these horrendous and tragic events. Perhaps not everything is like a streak of glittering sun, but not everything is a cold, bleak sky of grey clouds. Without both of these, and other things like rain and snow and hail, the world would not work like the way it does _with_ them. Life is very much like the weather. Often there are happy stretches and dark stretches that are distinct in our life, but there are many different variations that make certain days better or worse than others."

"Well, I mean Zeus controls the weather, so I can understand why the weather changes a lot. It changes almost as much as the women he sleeps with."

Athena's lips quirked slightly, but she did her best to keep her face as straight as possible. Percy figured that it was a pride thing. "I do suppose that is true. There are many different ways you can look at different aspects of many things."

"So what makes me so special?" Percy asked. "You know, with all this advice and gifting. Why am I the chosen one for that? Hera favours me because she likes that I stood for family over a position of power. What about you? Why do you favour me?"

Athena pressed her lips together. "You wish for revenge on Sparta. Sparta's main patron is Ares, though Artemis is a minor part of a patron goddess there, and Ares is my rival in all wars. Whichever side I take, he takes the opposite. It has always been this way. You are a useful ally. You are smart, confident and affirmative. But you understand and accept that you have weaknesses and you acknowledge your faults. That is why you have the potential to be wise and have taken many steps in that direction already."

He flushed. "Well, that's a nice compliment from the wisest goddess there is. You know forget that. From the wisest entity there is."

"No one likes an arrogant man. But too modest, and people detest your inability to accept compliments. As Nemesis would say, a balance creates an equilibrium that benefits everybody yet nobody."

"Interesting words," Percy mused.

"Perhaps." Athena walked up to him, and he noticed that she looked around his age, perhaps eighteen. She was a little shorter than him, but not by too much. She looked serious and deadly, but the soft glow of her skin made her look beautiful…dazzling. "I wish you good luck on your adventures, Percy. You are welcome to stay in Athens should you not find a home in your cousin, Orestes."

He gave her a tight smile and offered a hand to shake. "And good luck to you, Lady Athena, in whatever you goddesses do."

For a second, she regarded his hands with a small curiosity before she took it and shook it. Percy felt a shiver travel up his arm and through his whole body. Athena suddenly reeled in shock and stared at him flabbergasted. She reached out to touch him again and seemed to examine his skin.

"No, it cannot be," she muttered.

"What?" he asked in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"This may hurt," Athena warned, and then she stabbed him with her fingernails. He winced in pain and was about to shout at the goddess until he saw his blood. It was red, as normal as any other person's, but he was sure that he saw golden sparkles in the fluid. Athena looked absolutely mortified. "No! This is very bad."

"Can you tell me what's going on here?" His voice was beginning to sound a little scared and desperate. "Why are you so freaked out? Tell me, please."

Athena gave him a wary look. "You…you cannot be. I must tell the council at once."

He swallowed nervously. "Just tell me what's wrong! Who knows? Maybe I'll be able to help you with whatever the problem is."

"You cannot help it at all," said the goddess of wisdom. "A curse cannot be undone until it is fulfilled or the curser decides to renounce the curse. It will not do good for you to understand or help with what has happened. All you will do is make it worse."

"Whoa! A curse?" Percy paled. "Who cursed me? Why would they curse me? What happened?"

"Knowing too much of your future is dangerous, hero. More often than not, you try to change your fate, which only causes more disaster. The less you know, the safer you are."

"You said that a year ago!"

"And it would do you good to remember this _now_."

"Just tell me what is wrong!"

"I will not stand here and listen to your useless mortal blabbering." Athena's nose scrunched up. "You made me say 'blabbering.'"

"It isn't my fault! Didn't you all give humans the capability to express curiosity?"

"Curiosity is a deadly flaw for many, son of Poseidon. In this specific case, it is not deadly for you but for the people around you. There is no telling what you will do when you figure out what has happened to you. I must get going."

Before Athena could raise her hands, Percy grabbed her shoulders to try and stop her. "Please, Lady Athena—"

The goddess' eyes flashed with anger. "Let go of me."

"Give me a different reason, Lady Athena! _Why_ can't you tell me what's going on? I have a right to know. It regards me directly!" He kept a hard grip on her shoulders as she began to struggle her way out. She was remarkably strong, and it took all of Percy's strength to hold her in place.

"Don't touch me, Hephaestus!" Athena cried, and Percy suddenly let go. There was a distant look in the goddess' eyes, as if she was recalling a jaded memory. The story of Hephaestus attempting to rape Athena flashed through his mind, and Athena waved her hand without warning. Percy wasn't paying attention, too stunned at what it seemed like he was doing, and he forgot to avert his eyes when she morphed into her true form to flash away.

He watched as Athena turned into an explosion of light and fire, her entity disappearing into thin air, and the last thought that went through his mind was that his body was burning, to be forever lost in the dark abyss of Chaos.

* * *

**Uh oh. What happened to Percy? Cliffy? Well, I don't have much to say about this chapter aside from the fact that this is the point in the story that we skip a whole bunch of years to save filler time. This, itself, was supposed to be a filler chapter...and in a sense, still _is_ a filler chapter except for the fact that it is longer than the chapter like two chapters ago or something like that. Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed reading this chapter. No romances yet in this story, so I wasn't exactly keen on getting it up by Valentine's Day (which I hope you all enjoyed with your boyfriends/girlfriends/computers/gaming consoles). I personally enjoyed my date with my computer today :P**

**I know it kind of seems random and out of character, but I need this last part to be the way it was for the story to make sense in a cliffhanger. I added some hints as to what happened to Percy before he looked at Athena's true form.**

**I WANT YOU ALL TO PREDICT AS TO WHAT HAPPENS TO PERCY NEXT. Who finds him? Is he dead? Is he resurrected?**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Percy as a character. And I don't own mythology. And I don't own history. Ta-da!**

**Thanks for reading,  
SharkAttack719**


	9. Lypē

**Author'sNoteAtTheEnd.**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

The convoy nervously rattled on.

The wheels of the cart rolled along the bumpy, rocky road. The twenty Spartan warriors that surrounded it marched steadily, keeping an eye out for an ambush. The warriors were well trained and had survived through many attacks. But this convoy was something different entirely. Inside of the cart was a very important man.

He was essentially their king. All of the guards knew that. Megapenthes was just a public figure. He was, in a way, an actor. Nicostratus, his brother, was the true King of Sparta. And he had just gone on a mission to Helos to make the yearly declaration of war on the helot population.

Obviously, much of the Spartan army was currently bombarding Helos to kill the helots, but Nicostratus needed to get back to Sparta to run the city. With only Megapenthes at the helm, Sparta was sure to collapse in on itself. Nicostratus meant no disrespect to his brother, but Megapenthes was clearly unfit to make strategic decisions under pressure. He was a far better general or commander in the army than a king.

However, his plan to rule the entirety of the Peloponnese was ruined when the vacant throne of Argos was claimed by his cousin, Orestes. If he didn't act quickly, the death of Megapenthes would mean that the son of Agamemnon would step up to the Spartan throne. That would not be acceptable. He needed to take Argos from Orestes, wrestle Corinth from his grasp, and kill dear old King Nestor in Pylos.

There was too many things that he needed to do.

If only Percy had not left all those years ago...

Nicostratus had not heard of any news about the son of Poseidon since the incident five years ago when Orestes had saved him from the docks in Argos. However, the day after Percy was saved, he vanished without a simple goodbye. Philokrates had told him that Orestes was very perturbed by this.

Sending spies all across Hellas, Thrace and Anatolia, Nicostratus found absolutely no sign of the boy. Percy would be twenty-four now, a middle-aged warrior. If he had improved his skills in the past eight years, it would be a difficult battle to win.

Unexpectedly, the cart stopped. Nicostratus frowned when it didn't move within a few moments. Poking his head outside, he asked, "What is the matter? Why have we stopped?"

"You might want to look for yourself, my lord," said the driver.

Nicostratus slipped out the back of the cart, the cloth brushing against his skin as he exited. He thought he heard a tree branch snap when he got out, but looking around, he saw nothing. He could only see the confused faces of the Spartan warriors lit up by the torchlight. He grabbed a torch from one of the warriors and went to the front of the convoy.

His eyes widened when he saw the wreckage that lay before him.

"_Di immortales_," he muttered.

Across the Eurotas River, the village of Karthous was in utter ruins. The entire place looked like it had been ravaged by barbarians. Nicostratus couldn't see the entire village, but the main part of it, the part that bordered the river, had been torn to the ground. Not burned…torn.

The forest surrounding the central part of the village had been torched. The worst part of it all was the Karthous had been one of the most loyal villages to Megapenthes and his cause as king.

"Who could have done this?" Megapenthes said in awe.

The lead warrior shrugged. "I'm not sure, sir. Perhaps if we could examine the wreckage, then we could determine what happened."

"Then let's go!" he exclaimed.

The warrior shook his head. "If you haven't noticed yet, my lord, the bridge has been destroyed. I can't even see the ruins."

Nicostratus looked down and realized that the warrior was right. The bridge that normally spanned across the river was completely gone. It was almost as if…

"Ambush," Nicostratus cursed. "Hurry. Turn around and head to the nearest bridge. We'll come back to examine the damage of Karthous." He sprinted around to the back and hopped into the cart. "Let's go!"

He heard the whip of the reins, and the horses neigh in protest. But the cart turned around, and the sounds of running Spartans filled Nicostratus' ears. It sounded like a drill from their Spartan childhood. He heard the sheaths of the swords slapping against their legs as they ran, and the loud footsteps of twenty men in sync echoed in the dark night.

Nicostratus' heart pounded in his chest. People had meant to attack him tonight. They knew that he was vital to the Spartan throne…more vital than Megapenthes. Someone had meant to ambush him. They destroyed Sparta's closest ally and an important bridge for transportation from Sparta down to the coast of Laconia.

He could think of many people who would wish for his head. Orestes was one of them. There were also angry Spartans who thought that he and Megapenthes were ruling improperly. Demophon of Athens, son of Theseus, was another. The King of Thebes was Tisamenus (which was also the name of Orestes' son for some reason), but the current ruler was Peneleos because Thersander's Tisamenus was not of age. Thersander had died in the Trojan War. Either way, Nicostratus had a feeling the they could harbour feelings of anger toward the rulers of Sparta.

The King of Crete was Leucus, who had seduced and killed Meda, the wife of Idomeneus. And when Idomeneus got back from the Trojan War, Leucus banished him and sent him into exile. Megapenthes and Nicostratus tried to keep their distance from Leucus because they wanted little to do with Crete. Besides, Spartans did not like the open ocean. It was known to everyone that Poseidon favoured Athens even after Athena had won its patronage.

The most terrifying of them all was the very man he had been looking for in the past five years: Percy.

_You are disowned, Perseus…of Athens_, Megapenthes had sneered.

Nicostratus winced when he remembered the look of pure fury on the son of Poseidon's face. The explosion of the fountain had killed three children and injured a great many of others. Some of them could not walk or work again and were therefore put down for their inability to fight. Inadvertently, Percy had killed over a dozen Spartan citizens and warriors. That wasn't that many, but all of them were men who served in the army. It was a fairly significant loss in a city that housed eight thousand men with even less between the ages of twenty and twenty-nine.

From that point on, Nicostratus knew that Percy would want revenge for the way he was treated by the Spartan population. Everyone had labelled him as a traitor, just like Helen, but in current conditions, many were shouting for him to bring Percy back from exile.

There was no way that would happen. Percy was nowhere to be found.

Helios was ready to ascend into the sky when they finally reached Karthous.

"Split up," the lead warrior ordered as he stood at the center of the village. "Find anything you can and report back here before Helios gets too far up into the sky."

All twenty-two of them (twenty warriors, the driver and himself) split up and searched the village for any clues as to what had happened. Nicostratus pulled out the dagger that he always kept at his side and began searching through the rubble. He started at the Chief's house.

The doors were no longer intact. There were wood splinters everywhere, and Nicostratus guessed that the door had been smashed open with some sort of heavy tool. There was a log nearby, so that was one of the possible tools. Entering the house, he saw burn marks on the wall. They looked recent. Then he sniffed the air and cringed. He could smell rotting flesh.

After a little bit of searching, Nicostratus finally found the source of the smell. There were the disemboweled bodies of the Chief's wife and six children. The rotting organs lay on the floor, decaying slowly. And the rotting organs did not look that old. Prodding at them with his dagger, he realized that the bodies had been moved from another spot. The organs looked as though they had been dragged from a long distance and then kicked into a messy pile.

Turning around, he ventured into the Chief's bedroom. The elegancy of the room had been destroyed along with the rest of the town. And a new decoration was the centerpiece of the annihilation of the village: the dead body of Chief Demosthenes. Demosthenes' hung from a wooden bar near the ceiling by a thick rope. There was a hole in the man's neck that was caked in dried blood. It looked as though something had been yanked out of it.

As he approached the man's dead body, he found the weapon that had killed him. There was an arrow that had been stabbed into the Chief's foot with a piece of papyrus attached to it. On the papyrus was some writing. Half of it, Nicostratus couldn't understand (but it looked oddly familiar to Phoenician text), and the other half was in Greek.

_Hello Nicostratus,_

_I hope you enjoyed your declaration of war on the helots. I assume that they are being slaughtered, and all the women are being raped and tortured and captured at the moment, so everything is fine. Be that as it may, I realize that Karthous is a city very dear to you. Your friend, Philokrates, speaks much about your antics. But no…there was no ambush planned for you on the other side of the river, as you might have guessed. If you didn't guess that, well…I guess I'm not as smart as I credit myself to be. But that is beside the point. The point is that you were stupid and foolish to split up from the group like you did. I know you very well, old friend. As tactical as you are, you express your emotions and feelings rashly. I don't think that you will be seeing the sun tomorrow, unless by some miraculous chance you make it into Elysium, where a fake sun always rises in the sky. I bid you farewell, Nicostratus._

_Sincerely, your friend,  
Περσεύς_

Nicostrauts frowned as he read the word in place of where the name of the sender should have been. The letters were foreign to him. He knew he should have learned Phoenician when he had the chance. Cursing, he ran back outside to the village center, shouting for the Spartan warriors to come back to him.

But when he reached the predetermined meeting spot, no one was there. Helios had risen. Not even the cart or the horses were there.

"Hello?" he shouted. "Is anybody there? What did you find?"

He was met with silence.

"Speak to me! Be there!"

Quietly, one of the warriors shuffled out from behind some debris. He shuffled over, averting his eyes, before coming to Nicostratus' feet and bowing on one knee. "My lord, I could not find anything but destruction. There are burn marks…but oddly, most of the city seems as though it had been torn down brick by brick."

There was a familiar undertone in the warrior's voice that Nicostratus noticed but could not identify.

"Where are the others?"

"They await you."

"Where?"

"In Hades."

With stunning speed, the warrior drew his sword and stabbed Nicostratus through the stomach. The son of Menelaus felt a numbing pain seep up from his gut. He could feel the metal blade exit him as the warrior pulled out. Grabbing his stomach, Nicostratus fell to the ground in utter shock.

Then he saw the eyes of the warrior. They were green…sea-green.

"Rest easy, _brother_," Percy spat. "I've given you the easy way out of this life of terror and despair. You will no longer feel the pain of life. You will not be overthrown by an army. And your execution will not be known by anyone."

"How…?" he croaked.

Percy gave him a cruel smile and held one of the torches up. "Revenge takes time and requires a lot of patience. But in the end, it is all worth it. In time, Sparta will fall. It will be little more than just a village once it is destroyed. Sparta will never have glory ever again. They shall fall like cowards shaking in fear. I will make sure of that."

"You can't…" Nicostratus' vision began blurring up. "Sparta is your home…family and friends live there. They only hated Helen. Not you."

The son of Poseidon laughed. "My home…yes, the people who betrayed me are my family and my friends."

"Then…then I hope, in your haste to destroy those who betrayed you, that the spirit of Sparta lives forever in the hearts of the gods. I hope…I hope that you see that you are not destroying Sparta…but yourself."

Percy closed his eyes, his mouth contorting tightly. He took a deep breath before he tossed the torch onto Nicostratus' body. The loss of blood was too much for Nicostratus, and the pain of the fire made everything feel numb. But he meant every word he said to Percy. As much as Percy loathed him, he hoped that the son of Poseidon would not destroy himself in the process.

And then the darkness swallowed him.

He was dead.

* * *

Percy waited until the body burned into ash before he swept away the fire with the wave of his hand.

For most of the time, he'd sat there pondering Nicostratus' words. He'd made his final decision and knew it was too late to take it back, but he just couldn't help thinking about it. With everything that he did, he could find some fault in it. It made his head ache.

Percy remembered tearing Karthous down from its glory. It was a devastating process. At least, devastating for its villagers.

He'd arrived the night before, pretending to be wounded by killing a farmer and drenching his abdomen in blood. His arms were soaked when he was seen by the workers on the field. They had rushed out to help him and brought him to the Chief's house. There, he was tended to by a nurse, and she realized that he wasn't injured.

After threatening to kill her, the nurse kept the Chief under the illusion that Percy needed to stay in bed for most of the next day. Then, at night, Percy snuck out, with the aid of the nurse, and used his bow to pick people off on night duty.

Blending in with the shadows, he crept around to each and every house, slaughtering the men in each household. As cruel as it was, his job included killing the women and children, so he did what he had to do.

He was halfway done with the village until the alarm went off. The Chief came storming out of his house in full battle armour, shouting for the intruder to be killed. Percy cursed, knowing that his plan to "eliminate before devastating" had failed. Using the river to his advantage, he drowned most of the city, though the torches that lit up the village had burned some buildings down.

With the power of the river, Percy tore houses down brick by brick, and even some of the forest had been destroyed.

The battle with the Chief had been the hardest.

Everyone except for him and his family was dead. His wife and children hid as he fought with Percy for his life. It was a rather difficult battle because Percy had no armour, and the Chief was wearing a full set of bronze. The Chief could strike wherever he wanted, and he exploited that.

Percy dodged, ducked, parried and blocked, but he knew that the Chief was bigger and stronger than he was. Even though he towered over average Greeks, the Chief of this village was a quarter of a head taller than he was. His shoulders were broader as well, and his sword was enormous. It was at least a pous (foot) longer.

It all came down to the end, because with all that the Chief had, the one thing he lacked was endurance. He was willing to bet that Percy would fall under his might and strength, and Percy almost did; but if that plan failed, he was doomed.

When the Chief started retreating more and played defence, Percy rattled him with flurries of strikes. They were completely erratic. Sometimes he would strike five times. Sometimes he would feint before striking. He changed up his attack each time, and the Chief became uncertain. Percy saw it in his eyes.

The Chief then attempted a strike, but Percy caught his blade with Anaklusmos and twisted it so that the Chief had no choice but to drop it. Then, the son of Poseidon had him on the verge of death. The battle was fought valiantly by both sides, but only Percy would win.

In a final attempt, the Chief kicked Anaklusmos from Percy's hands and knocked him backward before running to get his family.

Percy was too fast. He summoned his bow and launched an arrow that went straight through the Chief's neck. Blood gushed out of his neck like a fountain, and he collapsed to the floor…dying.

The Chief's family launched an ambush attack upon seeing their dead father, but Percy killed them all. He disemboweled the Chief's family, dragged them all to a corner, and left them there. Then he tore the arrow out of the dead Chief's neck and attached a written note. He stuck it to the Chief's foot and hung him from the ceiling by rope.

Now, looking at the village he had completely destroyed, regret swelled in his chest.

He jogged out into the forest where he'd told the horses to stay. He smiled when he saw that the horses had listened to him. He burned the cart and then rode off with the horses. He made his way further up north, toward Argos.

It was dusk when he reached Argos, the town he returned to every seven days. Between Argos and Corinth, Percy had found a new home. Since Hera was the patron of Argos, and Poseidon was the patron of Corinth, he had two gods who favoured him in each city. It was the perfect situation.

The only thing was that…well, he found himself to be lonely and depressed most of the time. He had no one to talk to, no friends, no family. His only company was the thought of revenge and the insanity of his mind's creation. He knew he still had many years to go until Sparta would finally fall, but at least the patience needed was eating away his time.

He sat on a chair overlooking the Argolic Gulf as he ate dinner. Since it was dark, the city of Argos was rather quiet, and he could hear the footsteps approaching him before she even came into view.

Hera came from in front of him, seemingly appearing out of the darkness. Percy quickly finished up his meal before standing up to greet the goddess. She wore a sad expression, as if she felt sorry for him. He understood why she felt that way.

"It has been a long time, my champion," Hera said kindly.

Percy bowed. "The same for you, my lady."

"I saw the, ah, incident at Karthous," she said, staring directly in his eyes. Her eyes were bright in the darkness. "You have captured the attention of the Olympians in quite a disturbing manner. Perhaps it is good that you regret doing what you did, Percy."

"Really? Captured the attention of the Olympians?"

"Did you think you could hide from them forever? Especially with your…condition?"

"My condition?" Percy furrowed his eyebrows. "This has something to do with what Athena freaked about five years ago, doesn't it?"

"I do believe it is time you know," Hera said affirmatively. "Nothing can be hidden forever."

The goddess paced around slowly. "To put it in simple terms, you are immortal."

Percy's eyes bulged. "Excuse me?"

"Though your immortality is only partial. It is very much like a Hunter's immortality."

"A hunter's immortality? Hunters don't have immortality."

Hera shook her head. "I mean the Hunters of Artemis, a group of immortal maidens who travel the world with Artemis. They hunt beasts that may threaten demigods. However, that is not the point. The Hunters of Artemis have immorality much like the divinities do. They cannot die from natural human causes, which include illnesses and age and much more; however, they can be killed in battle. Should you ever look at your blood, you shall find golden sprinkles throughout. It is shielded by the Mist, so no mortals will question you."

Percy blinked blankly. "Uh, can you repeat that again? I'm having a hard time believing all of this."

"What I say is true, young hero. Look at yourself. Has your physical appearance changed in the past five years? Do you feel like you have aged? Do you feel like you have grown? What does it seem like to you, Percy?"

When she pointed that out, Percy looked down at himself. It was odd that he didn't look a day older than how he looked five years ago. And everything around him felt…slower. Just like when he'd woken up in Orestes' care that time…

He already knew that he was lucky to be alive after looking at Athena's godly form. To know that he was immortal was something different altogether.

"How did this happen?" Percy asked. "Athena was all scandalized about it. What happened? I remember her saying something about me being cursed or something like that."

"A combined curse," Hera said solemnly. "Turnus cursed you when the Trojans appeared in Latium, and Anna Perenna cursed you for leaving her after she had fallen in love with you. Together, with the help of Nemesis and Ares, they cursed you into immortality, to never see the end of all of the death that you will ultimately cause until you finally feel heartbreak and peril."

"But why would they curse me?" he asked. "It isn't my fault that what happened…happened!"

"Perhaps…but they feel the need to blame someone," the goddess said.

Percy growled under his breath. He should have known all of this, but he never would have believed that he was cursed. Never had he thought that people would dare to curse him. Shaking his head, he asked, "Then…could I have been killed by looking at Athena's godly form?"

"Yes, but I had not known you had been cursed at the time. I did my best to save you. And miraculously, you did. For months I questioned myself how that was possible. It wasn't supposed to happen. Then I learned of the curse. You lived for that specific reason. You can only die when you finally feel heartbreak and peril…true heartbreak."

Percy stared at her blankly for a moment before frowning. "Great, so I can't die unless I fall in love and experience true heartbreak. Congratulations for me! Yay!"

Normally, immortality would be something that a hero would embrace and enjoy. But just from the way he became immortal made him a little scared. It wasn't from the blessing of a god or goddess. It wasn't a gift from the Olympians because he had completed a great amount of tasks. No…it was just in his luck that he was _cursed_ into immortality. And he would face nothing but war, like the prophecy said, only to survive death and watch as a new generation rose up.

By now, he knew what most of the prophecy meant.

_A Half-Blood of the three-pronged trident_ meant a son of Poseidon. _Shall give retribution of his own malcontent_ meant either he would get his revenge on Sparta or he would give retribution of his malcontent about his curse. _Champion of the crown, and guardian of all_ was still a little opaque, but "champion of the crown" meant that he was the champion of Hera, Queen of Olympus. _The eternal foe to injustice and oppression's call_ probably meant that he would always be remembered throughout history as a person who fought against injustice and oppression. _The hero shall find nothing but war_ meant exactly what it said. _And fall at the hands of a friend and the boar_ meant that he would finally be killed at a friend's hand, with aid of the boar, which was Ares in his best guess.

"You can create a new history, though, Percy," the goddess said optimistically. "Your father has requested that you should be sent on a quest, and albeit one of his mortal foes, that you head under the wing of a very cunning man to learn from him."

"What kind of quest? Which cunning man?"

"That second question, my champion, I cannot answer. However, the quest is simple. It is your duty to seek out the griffin, like the image carved onto your shield. Only one exists in the world, as you might know, and you have been chosen to capture and tame, or subdue and kill the beast. The best aid I can give you is that the creature lives in either Crete or Phoenicia, which stretches all the way into Persian territory."

"So, Crete or Phoenicia. Got it."

Hera smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "I have complete faith in you, Percy. You will find the griffin, and only you will know what to do with him once you have found him. Enjoy your time with your mentor. It may not last long but it will be crucial."

Then she snapped her fingers, and a wave of darkness rose over him like he was out in the open sea. The nausea hit him, and he vomited, before unconsciousness hit him like a rock.

* * *

**All right, I understand that some of you may want me to update faster or something along those lines. I'm sorry if you're enjoying it so much... I have a life outside of FanFiction. I have _many_ priorities over FanFiction, believe it or not. I enjoy writing for all of you, but I have other work to focus on before I can write for FanFiction. Honestly, I'm glad I have gotten so much positive feedback. It really helps make my week... But you have to understand that I am quite busy. Chapters for this story will be around once a week. Chapters of "Rise of the Titans" every two to three weeks. I try and make them good so that you guys (and girls ;D) don't have to complain about how bad the story is.**

**Anyway, the disclaimer is the same as usual, yet as important as ever: I don't own Percy as a character. I don't own mythology. I don't own history. All I own is the path that the characters in the story take.**

**Thank you to everyone for the support,  
SharkAttack719 (I'm a guy for those who don't know)**


	10. Elegant

**Author'sNoteAtTheEnd.**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Percy's eyes snapped open and he instantly shot up.

"Ow!" he yelled as his head slammed into a low-lying branch. "What in the name of the gods…?"

Looking around, Percy noticed that he was in a forest, trees surrounding him on all sides. He blinked a few times, attempting to adjust to the sudden change in scenery. The last thing he had remembered was that he was speaking to Hera, Queen of Olympus, about his quest and "mentor." Looking down, he checked to make sure everything he usually wore was there.

"Katoptris," he muttered, "check. Anaklusmos, yes. Belt, of course. Quiver…on my back. Prostatis, yes. Bow?" He summoned it. It appeared in his hand. "Magic is still functioning."

For a second, he kept silent, absorbing in the silence of nature when he suddenly heard a very promising sound. Percy's eyes lit up. "Rushing water. A river must be nearby. Perhaps I can find someone to tell me where I am."

It took him a little while, but he finally emerged from the bushes, in his glory of a white _chiton_ and black _himation_ overtop. There was indeed a river in his sight, and he smiled. Taking his _himation_ off, he dove into the water. He laughed as he swam underwater amongst the fish. Ignoring their cries (which consisted mostly of exclaiming how he was royalty), he played with them, racing them up and down the river.

After a while, he began to feel a little bit of the fatigue that he seemed to be able to elude for the past five years. He hadn't had this much exercise in a long time.

He had no idea what had gotten into him. He figured it was just that inner child that wanted to burst out of him because the past five years had been years of pain and hardship despite all of the successes that he had experienced. But as he came to the shore and put on his _himation_ (which he was using as a cloak), he remembered that he was supposed to come here to find his mentor. Percy was unsure as to who his mentor was or why he needed a mentor, but he assumed that the mentor was just someone who would help guide him toward Crete or Phoenicia.

Looking up into the sky, he noticed that the sun was still on the rise. That meant that it was still morning. East was across the river. West was behind him, deeper into the forest. The current ran north to south, but he couldn't see further than two stadia to either side. To the south, the river suddenly disappeared off a cliff, which Percy knew was a short waterfall. To the north, the land inclined before levelling off, making it impossible for him to see what was on top unless he went there.

It was a hard decision to make because he had absolutely no idea where he was, and he wasn't sure if the closest city or village was north or south.

Then somehow, the answer came to him. Literally.

Passing right in front of him, with the aid of the current, was a ball. It was simple. It was useless. But its meaning was great. There was civilization nearby, and it was coming from the north.

Percy hid his daggers under the folds of his _himation_ and summoned his bow. Taking an arrow, he notched it and moved forward.

Moving quickly and silently, he went north for about five minutes until a fleeing figure slammed into him. He steadied himself and grabbed the person, holding them in a headlock. When the person's face and body came into focus, Percy realized that it was a naked woman.

He let her go, and she cowered, expecting him to hit her.

Instead, he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Excuse me, my lady. What are you running from?"

The woman looked down, pulling her hair down and shyly trying to cover her exposed body. "I am but a handmaid, kind sir. And I flee from a most horrendous sight. If you dare desire too see, I will show you. But beware of the sight that falls upon your eyes."

The handmaid, who was so eager to run away just moments earlier, quickly led him back to the scene in which she fled. He watched from behind a tree, a small group of other handmaids crowding around him. All eyes fixed on the two, a man and a girl, standing out in the clearing alongside the river, both gracious in nudity, and both confident and proud.

"Princess, I bow at your feet," the man said. "Are you mortal, or a goddess? If you are a goddess, you seem to me most like Artemis, great Zeus' daughter, in beauty, stature and form. But if you are an earthbound mortal, your dear parents are three times blessed, and so are your brothers. The man whom shall woo and conquer you with his gifts, and lead you homewards, is most blessed, for I have never seen a mortal woman or man such as you. And now I marvel at you, lady, in wonder, and am afraid to clasp your knees, though my troubles are harsh enough. Yesterday, the twentieth day, I escaped the wine-dark sea, and all that time the turbulent wind and waves carried me here from Ogygia's isle.

"Now fate drives me on shore, so that I may suffer harm here too, no doubt. I don't expect my sufferings to end yet: the gods will inflict many more before that moment comes. But Princess, pity me since I come to first of all and I know none of the people of this land or its city. Show me the way to town, and give me some rags to throw over me, perhaps whatever wrapped the clothes you brought. And may the gods grant you all your heart's desire, a husband and a home, and mutual harmony, in all its beauty. Since nothing is finer or better than when a man and a woman of one heart and mind stay together, a joy to their friends, a sorrow to their enemies: their own reputation of the very highest."

The man was very well-spoken, yet was streaked with brine, as if to imply that he was a monster…a beast. And instantly, Percy knew that this man, who looked near fifty, was the very man that was to be his "mentor."

He was a tall, skinny man. He had long, wavy blonde hair. And his skin was tanned, much like Percy's. It was clear, though, that the man used to be much bigger and much broader. Though much of his hair was wavy blonde hair, they curled at the ends and turned brown. Streaks of grey highlighted his head.

"Stranger," said the girl, who looked about half of the man's age, "you seem neither unknowing nor ill intentioned. But you have come to our land and city and you shall not go short of clothes or anything else a hard-pressed suppliant deserves from those he meets. I will show you the way to town, and tell you whom we are. My name is Nausicaa, this is the land of the Phaeacians, and I am the daughter of valiant Alcinous, king of the Phaeacians."

Then she turned to look at the hiding maids in their hidings spots around the clearing. "Stop, girls, why do you shun the sight of a man? Surely you don't imagine he's unfriendly? There will never be mortal men who dare set hostile feet on Phaeacian land, for we are dear to the gods. We live far-off, over the turbulent sea, the remotest of races, and deal with no other peoples. This man must be a luckless wanderer, landing here. We must care for him, since all strangers and beggars come from Zeus, and even a little gift is welcome. So bring him food and drink, girls, and bathe him in the river wherever there's shelter from the wind."

The maids popped out from their hiding spot. Unfortunately, the maids Percy was with pushed him out into view as well, and Nausicaa cocked her head in interest. "Another stranger?"

Percy rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He didn't share that same eloquence as the other man. "Uh, yeah, I guess. I just saw your ball float off the waterfall down south. I ended up running into your maids here. Literally."

"But you are clothed and wield a weapon, a shameful weapon at that, yet a weapon nevertheless."

"Shameful?"

"Girls, find our older stranger a sheltered spot, and bathe him in the river. Give him a tunic and a cloak, and smooth olive oil in a golden flask. Then invite him to bathe in the running stream. Our younger stranger shall have a choice, to bathe with the other or to remain here with me so the food can be prepared for our older stranger to eat."

The maids quickly broke out of their fear and began to get to work. They moved quickly and efficiently, and the next thing Percy knew, he was standing alongside the water, the wind being blocked by a large boulder.

It was calmer without the wind, and the older man relaxed.

But when the young maids approached the stream, the man held his hand up, halting them. "Ladies, aid your princess in creating food, since I need to wash the salt from my shoulders, and rub myself with oil, since it has been a long time since I last came in contact with oil, but I will not bathe with you here, and I am ashamed to stand naked among lovely women."

The maids did as he said, disappearing to inform Princess Nausicaa.

When they were gone, the man turned to Percy and hopped into the stream. "A hunter, I see. I have not seen any hunters since the Trojan War. Even then, we were no match for the Trojan archers."

"Trojan War, huh?" Percy muttered. "You were there?"

"Yes, I was. Now, may I ask…what is a young man like you doing out here on the island of the Phaeacians, when you are clearly a foreigner?"

"I could ask the same thing."

The man raised an eyebrow and looked at him analytically. There was silence for moment before the man finally said, "What's your name?"

"My name is Perseus."

"Very much like the glorious son of Zeus who slew Medusa, am I right?" the man said. "Interesting. You look nothing like a child of the great Olympian Zeus, your eyes green like the shallow seas. You claim not to be a handsome god so I ask, are you the child of a god? Have you come to aid me in my journey? Are you the child of the war god Ares or the child of god of the silver bow Phoebus Apollo? Or perhaps a son of a minor god?"

Percy looked into the man's eyes and noticed a very subtle look. He didn't know what came over him, but he felt the sudden urge to lie. To figure out whom the man was without giving away his complete identity. "Uh, I'm the son of an ocean nymph."

"Son of an ocean nymph?" asked the man. Percy nodded. "Well, that is interesting. I must be honest with you…I am not just a normal peasant. I have been wandering the world for the past ten years after leaving from Troy. My name is Odysseus, and I am the King of Ithaca. I must get back home to my wife, Penelope, and my son, Telemachus. But no one else may know who I really am, for if they find out, I will not be treated the same. I must learn of what happened on my own. Promise me that, Perseus."

Percy's eyes widened. "You're Odysseus? The cunning man who devised the plan of the Trojan horse?"

"Perhaps," Odysseus said mischievously. "But promise."

He nodded. "I swear to the Styx that I will keep your identity a secret until you reveal it."

Thunder rumbled in the sky.

"Thank you, sir," Odysseus said. "I give many thanks to you."

As Odysseus cleaned himself, Percy fiddled with his _himation_, adjusting it so that it acted more as a cloak that it did a robe. The day was warm, so he did not sacrifice his warmth for that. In that, however, Percy _did_ end up revealing his two melee weapons. Odysseus admired them with a gleam in his eyes, as if he could see them for what they truly were.

When Odysseus finished, he climbed out of the water and asked, "Percy…what is that dagger? It looks oddly familiar. The one strapped to your right side is the one I speak about."

Stupidly forgetting his façade, he said, "It's Katoptris. In other words—"

"You _are_ him," the King of Ithaca marveled. "Percy, my goodness. Katoptris is Helen's looking glass."

Eyebrows knitting, he fell into confusion. "What are you…?" Then he realized that Odysseus had most likely known about his birth in Sparta being over twice his age. And he probably knew that Helen of Sparta had this weapon. "Oh, uh…"

"Of course, you could not trust a stranger," Odysseus said in understanding. "I know where your intentions and loyalties lie. But there must be a reason we have finally run into each other after all these years. The gods wish for us to meet again. Oh, my. If you have that weapon, Helen and Menelaus must have reached home safely. How are they?"

Percy's face darkened. "Menelaus and Helen are dead."

His face fell. "Oh…how?"

"I'm not so sure about Dad," Percy shrugged. "He fell ill suddenly, like he'd gotten poisoned, and then Mom was exiled and I went with her. She visited an old friend, Polyxo, who betrayed her to avenge her husband, Tlepolemus."

"I see…" Odysseus trailed off into thought. "Well, I'd better finish up. Perhaps the faster we get to the great Alcinous' palace, the faster we can attain food and shelter."

The two of them finished cleaning up and then sat on the bank of the river. Percy noted that Odysseus seemed to look stronger and taller. The locks of his hair sprung up thickly like hyacinth petals, and he looked graceful. Percy had a feeling that a goddess had something to do with that.

Soon, the handmaids arrived with food and drink and placed it before them. Odysseus ate and drank eagerly, as if he had not eaten in days.

Percy gave Odysseus most of his food, so he finished quickly. When done, he went to watch Nausicaa. It wasn't because he had a thing for her. He just wanted to know if she had good intentions or not. From here, he had a perfect view of both the princess and the Trojan hero.

Nausicaa was folding the clothes that she had brought down to the river, and her handmaids began to load her wagon with them. Every once in a while, she would glance down at the riverside, where Odysseus hungrily inhaled the food. Once, she caught Percy's eye but the message received wasn't one of admiration. It was of curiosity.

Percy had done much to try and downplay the way he looked, because he knew from past experiences that many women fell in love with him at first sight. It was awkward when they would approach him, and he would have absolutely no interest in them at all. He couldn't help it. He just couldn't fall in love, despite that being his door to death.

It was a good thing that Nausicaa showed no romantic interest in him.

After she looked at him, he decided to go up to the wagon-cart to help the handmaids. They had yet to harness the mules to the wagon, so Percy did exactly that. The mules were part horse so he could understand them when they spoke to him.

_Lord_, they crooned.

"Hey," Percy said.

In short, the conversation included a lot of admiring by them and a lot of commands by him. When he was done, Odysseus arrived at the scene. At this point, the handmaids and Nausicaa were pretty much done loading up the wagon-cart with the clothes.

Nausicaa climbed up onto one of the mules and then beckoned for Odysseus to join them. "Strangers, prepare to leave for town, and I will direct you to my wise father's house, where I can assure that you will meet the noblest Phaeacians. But be sure to do as I say, as you seem like intelligent men: while we are in the country and among the ploughed fields, walk quickly behind the mules and wagon with my maids. I will lead the way. But on the approach to the city, which is ringed by a high wall, there's a harbour on both sides, and the causeway between it is narrow. The curved ships are drawn up to the road, each man having his own mooring, but there's a meeting place, as well, next to Poseidon's mighty temple. Here the crews are busy with the black ships' tackle, with cables and sails, and here they carve their thin oar blades. For Phaeacians are indifferent to bows and quivers, caring only for the graceful ships they sail over the grey sea."

"Bows are good weapons," Percy complained.

She ignored him. "I wish to avoid evil gossip, since there are insolent men in the crowd, and one of the cruder ones might spread dark rumors: 'Who is that tall and handsome stranger who trails after Nausicaa? Where did she find him? It's her future husband no doubt! She must have found some shipwrecked traveller, a foreigner from far off, since we have no neighbours. Or maybe a god has come down from the sky to answer her endless prayers, to make her his forever! Better that she has gone and found a husband from abroad, since she despises the Phaeacians here and all her noble suitors!' So they will gossip and blacken my name. So now listen, strangers, so you can win my father's help to return to your lands, for I know you do not come from the same lands.

"You will find a fine grove, near the road, sacred to Athena, a cluster of poplar trees. A spring wells up in the center, and there's a meadow around there. My father lives there, his fertile vineyards and house within shouting distance of the city. Sit there, and wait till we have reached the city and my father's palace. When you think we are there, enter the Phaeacian city, and ask for my valiant father Alcinous' palace. It's easy to recognize. A child could show you, for Alcinous' palace is nothing like the Phaeacians' houses. When you enter the palace, go straight through the great hall, till you come to my mother, who sits at the hearth in the firelight. My father's throne rests against the same pillar as hers, where he sits like a god and drinks his wine. If you win my mother's favour, you may hope to see your friends, and reach your fine houses in your own countries."

As she finished speak, she flicked her whip, and the mules charged forward, slowly enough so that Odysseus, Percy and the maids could follow on foot.

The sun was setting when they reached the grove. There, Odysseus quickly sat down and prayed to the daughter of Zeus.

Percy sat down next to him and made his own little prayer to the goddess Athena: _Lady Athena, the grey-eyed and the wise. I need no formalities but I do wish for this—aid Odysseus and I, perhaps with the knowledge of direction, so we know where to go without men to challenge who we are or what our purpose is._

They waited for a while, mostly in silence, though Percy did ask Odysseus a question: "Will you keep your identity a secret the entire time you're here? Or will you reveal yourself after a certain amount of time?"

Odysseus judged that Nausicaa had reached town when the night had fallen upon the world. They reached the gates of the city, where the guards let them through with open yet suspicious arms.

The Phaeacians' eyes lingered as the two of them crossed the city. Odysseus marvelled at the harbour and the fine vessels, at the meeting place where the nobles gathered, and the long walls topped with palisades, wonderful to see. Yet Percy's eyes kept trained on the people watching them, glaring back with a wolfish expression.

They reached the king's fine palace soon, and someone came up to greet them, his eyes alight in the dark night.

He looked like a messenger or a servant.

"Strangers," he said, bowing. "Welcome to the house of Alcinous. You will find the princes, favoured by Zeus, feasting there, but go in and have no fear. For a man is best to be bold, even a stranger from a foreign land. The first person you will approach in the palace hall is the queen: Arete is her name, of the same lineage as the king, Alcinous. Nausithous was founder, born of Earth-Shaker Poseidon and Periboea, loveliest of women, youngest daughter of valiant Eurymedon once king of the insolent Giants. He brought destruction on his reckless race, and was destroyed. But Poseidon lay with Periboea, and bore a son, valiant Nausithous, who ruled the Phaeacians, and Nausithous had two sons, Rhexenor and Alcinous. Rhexenor, who was married without a son, was blessed by Apollo of the silver bow, leaving a daughter, Arete. Alcinous married her, and she settles the disputes of those she favours, men or women. If she looks kindly on you, there is hope you may see your friends again, and return to your vaulted hall in your own land."

The two of them passed through, and Percy muttered, "Does everyone talk like this here? It's like I'm listening to oracles. For Zeus' sake!"

Odysseus chuckled. "I believe they try to be formal when greeting strangers, whom they presumably seldom receive."

The walls that ran from the entrance of the palace to the innermost room were topped with a frieze of blue enamel. The doors of the palace were gold, with silver doorposts. The lintel above was silver too, and the door-handle crafted of gold. Gold and silver dogs stood at either side, fashioned by Hephaestus, to guard Alcinous' palace. They were ageless and immortal. Inside, seats were fixed along the walls from the entrance to innermost room, covered with woven fabrics made by the women. There, the Phaeacian princes would sit, eating and drinking. Golden statues of youths stood on solid pedestals, with flaming torches glowing in their hands to light the banqueting hall at night.

Odysseus stood and gazed around before crossing the palace swiftly. Percy followed behind him, trying to look inferior. Across the palace, they found the Phaeacian leaders and counselors sacrificing wine to Hermes.

"Bow behind me," Odysseus muttered.

And as eyes turned to them, they traversed the hall until they came to Arete and Alcinous. Odysseus clasped Arete's knees, and Percy bowed behind him, a few podes away.

"Arete, daughter of godlike Rhexenor," Odysseus prayed. "After many labours I come as a suppliant to your knees, at your husband's feet and your guests'. But let me return quickly to my own land, for I have long suffered trouble far from my friends. And this stranger behind me, I have befriended. He has lost his way as well, and desires to return home."

Alcinous was the first to break out of the silence. He stepped forward and clasped Odysseus by the hand, raised him from his knees, and seated him on a shining chair. He proceeded to do the same with Percy.

A maid brought water so the two guests could wash their hands in a gold pitcher. She poured it into a silver basin, and drew up a polished table beside them. And the well-respected housekeeper brought bread and set it before them, with many delicacies.

Odysseus ate hungrily, much like he had earlier. Percy ate little, trying to get used to not eating as much. The last five years had been anything but hard food-wise. He figured that being on this quest of learning and for seeking out the griffin would be hard on food. Besides, he was used to it from Sparta.

Then Alcinous turned to his squire and said, "Pontonous, mix and serve the wine to everyone in the hall, so we can pour sacrifices to Zeus for our holy guest."

At this, Pontonous mixed the wine, and poured the first drops into every cup. When they sacrificed and drunk what they wished, Arete spoke up for the first time to all.

"Stranger, you come from the sea, for there is no other way onto the isle of Scheria, yet your clothes are fine and dry. Where did you get these clothes? Who helped you come to our royal estate?"

Odysseus smiled and replied, "My queen, the answer to your questions are simple in theory. There is an isle, Ogygia, where artful Calypso, daughter of Atlas lives, where Fate brought me alone to her in my misfortune. Seven whole years I stayed there, soaking the everlasting garments Calypso gave me with my tears for the friends that had fallen because Zeus decreed only I was to survive. Then the eight year came around, and she urged me to go. With bread and glowing wine and everlasting garments to wear, she sent me hurtling across the seas to head back to my home. But Poseidon brought me more misfortune, and I landed here in Scheria. I slept for one night in the forest, before sweet sleep released me. I saw your daughter's maids playing on the sand, and she among them looking like a goddess. I made my prayer to her, and she gave me food, drink, and these clothes."

"But if my daughter was the first to whom you prayed," Alcinous asked, "why is it that she failed to lead you to our house?"

"She did ask me to follow her and her maids, but I refused out of shame and fear, thinking your mind might cloud with anger when you saw us, since the peoples of the earth are quick to anger," Odysseus lied.

The King smiled. "You are a kind and humble man. And I wish you would wed my daughter, be my son, and stay. I would give you a house and wealth if you chose to remain here, but no Phaeacian would detain you against your will. So you can be certain of beginning your homeward voyage. I appoint tomorrow as the day. While you sleep they will row you over calm seas, until you come to your own house and country, or wherever else you wish, even if it lies beyond Euboea."

"Thank you, noble Alcinous," Odysseus said. "My friend and I will be forever grateful for your deeds."

Then the whole hall feasted, and the Muse began singing. She sang of the quarrel between Achilles, son of Peleus and Thetis, and Odysseus, who had argued at the gods' rich festival, though Agamemnon, king of men, was secretly pleased to see a dispute between the Achaeans' finest because a prophecy had told him that after a quarrel sorrow would begin to overtake the Trojans. By Zeus' will, it was also the beginning of sorrow for the Greeks as well.

Percy noticed that Odysseus clutched his long purple cloak and dragged it over his head to hide his face. He could have sworn that Odysseus was crying.

That didn't seem to elude Alcinous either.

"Stranger, you hide yourself when Muse sings loud," the king noted. "But in this I hear your deep sighs when you hear of the Trojan War. Especially when great Odysseus is mentioned. What is this for? Is he a close companion of yours?"

Odysseus sighed and looked down. "Noble Alcinous, I have a confession to make. I am not just a stranger, you see. For now I remember this land of Scheria, not far from my land, my kingdom Ithaca. I am the king, the great Odysseus. Do not give me a bow or a sword or a spear. Allow me to tell my story from start to finish."

The King of Ithaca turned to Percy and nodded, asking him to aid him.

"Indeed that is Odysseus, a hero of the Trojan War," Percy said. "My name is Perseus, adopted son of Helen and Menelaus. My story goes far and wide, and I assure that this is the cunning hero that thought of the Trojan horse. Listen, and I assure you that all he speaks is of the truth. I swear to the Styx that I am not lying."

Thunder rumbled in the sky.

Odysseus nodded in thanks. "My father is Laërtes, an old, ailing man, whom I left home alive. I know not of his condition, nor of my son Telemachus, who was a mere child when I left him, or my wife, Penelope. I left for Troy to fight for the Achaeans, and when I left Troy, everything took a dark turn…"

* * *

**Hey!**

**Okay, so I've been pretty busy and I haven't had much time to upload onto FanFiction. I've barely had any time to work on Rise of the Titans, and I'm helping out a friend with recording something. Plus, I'm editing my other book, which is not going to be published on FanFiction or FictionPress or anywhere else on a free archive-like site. And I've got exams, labs, projects and those sorts of things.**

**I've got lots of things due soon, so not much time for me. I'm also beginning to play ultimate frisbee (at times, it's a really fun sport; other times, it's really stupid) for this season [I've played it before]. Less time to write so I can attend practices. Anyway, I'm updating, and despite only having 7 reviews in the past chapter, I'm updating with a 5000 word chapter.**

**QUESTION OF THE DAY/CHAPTER/WEEK:**

**Be honest... my friends hate Piper. Like... _hate_ Piper. What are your opinions on the daughter of Aphrodite?**

**Thanks,  
SharkAttack719**


	11. Ithaca

**Author'sNoteAtTheEnd.**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

"Leaving Troy, a landed in Ismarus, city of the Cicones," Odysseus said. "I sacked the city and slew the men, and the women and riches were split between us. Then I ordered us to slip away quickly, but my foolish followers wouldn't listen. They drank the wine, and slaughtered many sheep and shambling cattle with twisted horns. Meanwhile the Cicones rounded up others, their neighbours further inland, more numerous and braver, men skilled at fighting their enemies from chariots and on foot, as needed. At dawn they came, as many as the leaves and flowers of the spring: and disaster overtook us. We were doomed to endless trouble. Drawing up their ranks by the swift ships, they fought us, each side hurling bronze-tipped spears at the other. But as the sun fell, the Cicones succeeded in routing us Achaeans, and six of my well-armoured comrades died from each ship, but the rest of us cheated death and evil fate."

Percy listened closely, soaking the stories in with eager curiosity.

Odysseus continued: "More time passed, and rough winds sent us to the land of the Lotus-eaters. They fed my men lotus, and all those who consumed it lost all desire to return home. So by force, I dragged those who ate lotus and tied them to the mast as they wept for their longing to stay with the lotus-eaters. The lotus-eaters, who had no desire to imprison nor kill us, allowed us to leave, partially in disappointment. After the land of the Lotus-eaters came the land of the Cyclopes."

"Polyphemus?" Percy asked.

The guile king of Ithaca nodded. "Yes, their leader was named Polyphemus, a son of Poseidon. This was eight years ago. The land of the Cyclopes was inhabited by few Cyclopes, and most were dying. Only Polyphemus reigned strong by sucking all loot and food from the others. When my crew and I reached there, we knew not what this island held, so when we saw a cave ringed by poplars, we entered. It was full of food and drink, and everyone was elated. We slept the night and rose at dawn, feasting from dawn till dusk."

"What about the Cyclopes?" asked Alcinous.

"The Cyclopes never appeared aside from the beast Polyphemus at dusk to his home. We had invaded his home. A flock of sheep was herded in when we realized something was wrong. I stayed back, sitting in the shadows, as my men idiotically rose to face their demise. The beast bellowed when he saw the first men, eating his food and drinking his wine. A giant hand reached inside the cave, plucked three men in his grip, and swallowed them hole."

"He bellowed, 'Strangers, who dare invade my home! Who are you, tell me that, and I may spare your lives!' I answered the Cyclops saying: 'We are Achaeans, returning from Troy, driven over the ocean depths by every wind that blows. We are suppliants and Zeus protects visitors and suppliants, Zeus the god of guests, who follows the steps of sacred travellers.'"

"Of course, the Cyclops did not believe such things, for he was cruel and savage, like the beast that he is. He tried to trick me into revealing where our ship was moored, but I told him that Poseidon smashed his ship to pieces, wrecking her on the rocks that edged the island. He did not like the answer and grabbed two of my men. He dashed them to the ground like whelps, and their brains ran out and stained the earth. he tore them limb from limb for his supper, eating the flesh and entrails, bone and marrow, like a mountain lion. Helplessly we watched these cruel acts."

"But stuck in that cave you couldn't move the boulder at the entrance," Percy said. "So you had to wait until bright day. One of your men, Achaemenides, slept in for too long the very next day. You left him after your plan, which he said was ingenious."

"Yes, it partially worked. I offered the Cyclops wine, and we he was too drunk, the boulder removed from the entrance of the cave, I told him that my name was Nobody, or Noman. I grabbed an olive-wood stake and thrust it into the coals until it was glowing hot and ready to catch fire, before I drew it back and thrust it into his eye. We took the red-hot stake and twisted it round and round like that in his eye, and the blood poured out despite the heat. His lids and brows were scorched by flame from the burning eyeball, and its roots crackled with fire. As we escaped, I foolishly cried my true identity to the beast, and he called upon his father to enact revenge. Revenge he acted on for when Aeolus gave me a bag of the winds, the my crew thought it was gold and opened the pouch, no doubt by the urging of the Earth-shaker Poseidon. They released the four winds and sent us hurtling back into the Mediterranean.

"Then we stayed at Circe's island for a year, and after she turned my men back into pigs, I left dreading to spend any more time with her, for my wife Penelope awaited me at home in Ithaca. After many more travels, including the Sirens, all of my crew but me still lived. Shipwrecked, I landed on an island, desperately calling for help. I found Ogygia, the land where the sorceress Calypso lives. She wanted me to be her husband. I could not, though I had no way out. For seven years, I was trapped on that island, seduced by the lovely goddess. It was only after those seven years I was allowed to leave, and here I sit now among you Phaeacians in all of my glory."

All was silent as the hall absorbed Odysseus' words.

Alcinous was the first to speak: "Odysseus, as you now sit in my great hall, I will do all in my power to bring you back to Ithaca, a land not far from here. You have suffered much, and the gods must now have given you a break from your troubles. For everything you have been through has been harsh."

"Thank you, King Alcinous," said Odysseus. "But I plead you, allow me to go to my kingdom as soon as possible. Perhaps tomorrow, because I desire to lay eyes upon my wife and my son for the first time in twenty years."

"And what of your companion?" asked the king.

Quickly, Percy thought of a lie: "I serve as Lord Odysseus' personal guard, following him wherever he goes. For years after the Trojan War, we had been separated. It must have been the Fates that brought us together on this isle Scheria. I had been searching all over Hellas for him. I will be able to return to my post without any worry."

The lie seemed good enough to King Alcinous and Queen Arete. "Then let us partake in festivities and sports and games," said Queen Arete. "Let us celebrate your last day with us, wise Odysseus, and let tomorrow be when you sail home to Ithaca."

With this, the hall erupted and everyone went outside to play various sports.

Odysseus looked rather resigned at this, the older man wanting to get home as soon as he could. Percy nudged him on the shoulder. "Hey, don't look so down. I'm sure that some sports will get your mind off of things. And I will make sure that we get back to Ithaca. After all, I _am_ a son of Poseidon."

The king of Ithaca sighed. "I suppose it would be nice to trample over young, arrogant men in contest."

The first sport of the games was a foot race. Odysseus backed out of this one, arguing that he was too old to take part in such games. Percy rolled his eyes claiming that anyone who could fight in the Trojan War and survive ten years out in the open sea was good enough to run a simple foot race. But Odysseus was stubborn, and Percy raced against the Phaeacian men.

They all sped from the mark along the course set out, raising the dust from the ground. Odysseus called the start, and Percy stayed a good couple of podes behind whoever was in front. It was one of Alcinous' sons, Clytoneus, who captured the lead early in the race and stayed there for the better part of the first half.

When Clytoneus raced past the halfway mark, Percy looked behind him, breathing a little heavily. He was really out of shape. No one was in sight, none having turned the last corner like they had. Then Percy put on a burst of speed and shouted to Clytoneus, "Good luck, Lord Clytoneus. I thank you for all of your hospitality."

And then he charged forward, hoping to entice the prince to race him to the end. It was a hard-fought battle, but Clytoneus could never catch up to him again. Years of hunting in forests and staying mobile had its effects on Percy. He won the race by a long enough interval so that he could catch his breath. Clytoneus came in soon enough, and the rest followed at a much later time.

Clytoneus gave Percy a present for beating him, acknowledging that the son of Poseidon was a great runner.

In wrestling, Odysseus beat everybody. Including Percy. Percy was never that great of a wrestler. He had always been more of a boxer, using his fists to beat people up. He'd basically invented his own style of hand-to-hand combat, using his legs and feet to strike. Up in Thessaly a couple of years ago, he'd learned that there was something in the mythical lands to the far east that there was something similar called martial arts. But he didn't believe that "martial art" existed.

Amphialus then leapt the furthest, while Odysseus conquered with the discus, and Percy and Laodamas, another son of Alcinous, tied for the win in boxing. Neither opponent wanted to hurt each other out of respect, so they each threw a couple of punches and called it in.

Percy secretly gave the present that Clytoneus gave to him to Laodamas, praying to the gods that he didn't deserve the present anyway. Then he made Laodamas swear to the River Styx to give the present back to Clytoneus.

Odysseus won the games, having won two of the individual sports.

It was late in the afternoon, and Percy was practicing his archery on the outskirts of the city when Odysseus came up from behind him and admired his archery skill.

"You have quite the skill in archery," Odysseus remarked. "You would probably rival myself."

"Oh really?" Percy asked in fake surprise. "Wow, _probably_ rivalling you in archery is an honour." He notched an arrow, drew back, and split the arrow that was straight on the bulls-eye. "I would hope that I have a good shot considering I lived off of it for years."

"And you use a composite bow," the king of Ithaca remarked. "None aside from myself use this type of bow. Here, pass it to me. I wish to see if my shot is still as accurate as it was in Troy."

Percy tossed him a bow and a couple of arrows.

Odysseus notched them one at a time and let them fire. He hit one right next to the splintered shaft of Percy's, one a hand's length above, and the third half of a hand's length below. Odysseus winced and shook his head. "Those were not my best shots."

Percy smirked, grabbing his bow back. "What? You've been too busy swoodilypooping with other ladies?"

"Swoodilypooping?" Odysseus cocked his head in confusion.

Quickly tossing his bow over his neck, Percy made a fist and inserted his middle finger into the tunnel-like passage between the fingers. He then took his finger out and repeated that action. When Odysseus realized what he was talking about, the king of Ithaca shook his head sighed in a resigned fashion. Percy smirked and notched an arrow.

He struck the inner ring.

"I have come for a purpose, Percy," Odysseus said as he watched the boy shoot the target. "I want to know what has happened since I have been gone. I have not heard of any news since the land of the Cicones, and even then the news was limited. What has happened?"

Percy stopped shooting arrows and turned grimly to face the king of Ithaca. "What more is there to tell you? I have left Sparta because my parents are both dead, I have no home because I refuse to settle in a city, most kings of the Trojan War never returned or were exiled and killed. What more do you want to know?"

"Have you heard anything of Ithaca?"

Percy hesitated. His bow disappeared, and he pulled Anaklusmos out. "No. Nothing aside from rumors that you are dead, and Penelope should just choose one of the suitors. I haven't heard anything about Telemachus or your father. I've been…in other places."

"Do you think my wife can hold on much longer? Alcinous said Ithaca is close to here, though I have never heard of Scheria before this day."

"Neither have I," Percy said shrugging. "But I barely know Penelope. So I can't judge whether she can hold on for much longer. Bear in mind that the news I learned was a couple of years ago. Who knows what's happened since then?"

Odysseus looked down sadly. "Why must the gods torture the most illustrious of men? Heracles, Jason, Theseus, and myself."

"Someone thinks really highly of himself," the son of Poseidon muttered.

"For good reason!" snapped Odysseus. "I concocted the plan for the Trojan horse, which was the one thing that brought the fall of Troy. Not even the mighty Achilles could match my wisdom and prowess in tactics. I have wandered the seas for _so_ long that I have grown tired of all this misery. Why must the gods give me sad Fate? Why me of all men? I should have been killed with the rest of my crew. It would have been for the better."

"Life is pain," Percy agreed. "But you have to deal with that. I think that you control how your Fate plays out, and the Fates only unravel it. The gods help as well. The Fates may already know how your life will play out. You just have to do your best to play it out in your favour."

"Then you are a stubborn-headed fool. Every joy you try to find, the gods will strip from you. Your father sent me hurtling across the Sea of Monsters for ten years! No matter how close I get to Ithaca, I will never reach there. Watch tomorrow morning when we depart for my land for the ship to be blown off course by the gods, who desire to watch me suffer until my last breath!"

"Well, if you think that it's going to happen, it probably will!"

"You have not lived as long as I have. You don't know as much as I do."

"But I've been through my own experiences. We draw knowledge from what we experience."

"And I have been through more in the past ten years than you have in your entire life!"

"Been through what? You spent seven years marooned on an island with a beautiful goddess who desired to be your wife! What part of that is more than me having my father die, which Orestes highly suspects was induced by poison, my mother exiled and hung, and dozens of lives fall at my hand? Their blood and guts were smeared at my hand. This sword has killed more people than you've killed in the past ten years, and it hasn't killed nearly as many people as have fallen by my bow!"

"What sword? That is a dagger."

"_XIPHOS_!"

Anaklusmos elongated, and Percy stabbed its tip into the ground. Sneering, he jabbed a finger into Odysseus' chest. "I don't even know why Hera and Poseidon wanted you to be my mentor. You're not a good role model at all. You're a selfish, prideful, arrogant hero like the rest of them. You go through ten years of misery after nine years of war and you go insane. _I_ am doomed to suffer until my heart is broken."

"Then perhaps there is a different reason why they wanted to show you a hero such as I," the king of Ithaca said bitterly.

"What? They want to show me that if I don't persevere through tough times, I'll end up sleeping with a whole bunch of beautiful goddesses instead of my wife? That I'll go insane? That I'll be a prick?"

Odysseus reached out and grabbed Percy by his _chiton_. Pulling the younger man closer to him, he said in his most loathing voice: "Don't tempt me any further, or I will kill you in an instant."

"You forget," Percy spat. "I'm Spartan. I was trained for this."

"You were an adopted, greedy, spoiled child. Menelaus told me that as a toddler you whined about everything. Menelaus told me that you were a stubborn child. Your desires are stupid and mislead. I hear that resentment every time you speak of Sparta. You detest them for exiling your adoptive mother. Just wait until you try and destroy them. You cannot destroy them yourself, but if you don't destroy them yourself, the others who helped you will reap the goods and try to kill you. Betrayal is something men are known to do very well."

Percy glared at him defiantly.

After a few moments, Odysseus let him go and stormed back to the palace, clearly angry. Percy was angry as well, and it only took him a couple of moments to let his anger loose. Yelling, a wave of water rushed through the trees. It soaked everything, and a couple of angry dryads came out of the forest.

"Watch it," one of them said.

"Heroes," another said bitterly. "They think they're so tall and almighty."

"Please, just leave me alone," Percy begged.

"Look at that," the first one said, squeezing water out of her reddish hair. "A hero begging. Loser."

"Sons of Poseidon are always the most destructive," the second one muttered. "And they're all rude and inconsiderate. _Di immortales_, why aren't there any sons of Poseidon who embody the nice part of the sea."

"Spartans do that to you," Percy growled before summoning his bow again.

He shot arrow after arrow into the bulls eye until there was no room left for him to shoot a clean shot. Then he began to fire arrows to spell out his name.

It was dark when he finished, but he figured he did a fairly good job.

Tired, he went down to the harbour to admire the galleys that the Phaeacians had in the harbour. There was a variety of different ships, and Percy had to admit that the Phaeacians were good sailors. They definitely knew what they were doing when they built ships. Percy wondered if the Phaeacians were bound to fight for the Greeks in the Trojan War. From what he already knew about the place, it was highly unlikely.

That reminded him of how Odysseus called the Greeks: Achaeans. It was a stupid name for Greeks. They might as well have called themselves Hellenic rather than Achaeans.

Percy really wondered why his father wanted him to learn from this hero. He could not understand what he needed to learn. He could not understand what Odysseus was supposed to teach him. He knew he'd always been impatient, but he usually found something to do while he waited. This particular matter was hard for him because he _didn't_ have anything to do.

He spent a long time sitting at the harbour. So long that he was there when they loaded Odysseus onto a boat. The hero was still in his slumber, but the Phaeacians told Percy that they were going to surprise him by delivering him in secret at night.

Percy felt the plan was good enough, so he boarded the boat and fell asleep on the deck, ordering the guards to wake him before they arrived in Ithaca.

They did, and with his help, they unloaded Odysseus and all the treasure that the Phaeacians gave to him off the boat. When this process was complete, the Phaeacian boat sailed away and bid the two heroes farewell. Tired, with dark bags under his eyes, Percy thought about sleeping once again, but he knew he needed to keep an eye on Odysseus and the treasure should any man decide to steal it.

He kept himself mobile by practicing swordplay with Anaklusmos and Prostatis.

Percy wasn't sure whether it was coincidence or planned when the shepherd arrived as soon as Odysseus woke.

Percy stared at the shepherd, his body tingling as if a godly presence was nearby. The shepherd gave him a small smile before turning to Odysseus, who was rubbing his eyes from the sleep.

"Percy?" the man asked groggily. "What land have the Phaeacians dumped us on now? They promised to bring me home yet I am in this land I do not recognize, as if a mist as descended upon it." He turned to face the shepherd, who was still staring at them. "Hail to you, friend, the first person I have come across. Tell me clearly what land this is. Who lives here?"

The shepherd approached them slowly, his grey eyes bright in the morning light. "Stranger, you must be from some far-off place, or else be stupid, if you have to ask its name. Ithaca is the name of this land. A fine land it is for grazing goats and cattle as well, with every kind of tree, and never-failing springs."

Odysseus' eyes lit up, and his words suddenly became louder and clearer. "Even in Crete, over the water, I heard of Ithaca, and now I have brought myself, my wealth and my dear son here. As much as I left behind with my other children, fleeing that land after killing Orsilochus, I knew it was for the best. I asked the Phaeacian merchants to land me at Pylos, but the power of the winds sent them off course, and drove them here. Out of weariness, I slept here, but while I was asleep, the Phaeacians brought my goods from the hollow ship and set them down on the sand where I lay. Then they embarked and sailed for the thriving port of Sidon, leaving me here, troubled at heart."

The shepherd smiled and touched his shoulder. His appearance suddenly shifted, changing until the form of the shepherd was no longer an older man but that of a tall and lovely woman. "No man is wily nor devious to outdo you in cunning, Lord Odysseus. Even in your own country you will always be full of guile and the lying tales you love so much. Still you failed to recognize me, Pallas Athena, Zeus' daughter. I have been at your side ever since Troy and have helped you in times of desperate need. Once again I'm here to help you plan ahead, and before you start for home you need to hide the treasure the noble Phaeacians gave you. Tell no one, man or woman, that it is you, back from your wanderings. Suffer your troubles in silence, and endure the insults some will offer."

"It's hard for a mortal man to recognize you when he meets you no matter how clever he is, since you take what shape you will," Odysseus said, "but I don't believe I've reached Ithaca. This is still some foreign land I travel."

"Any other man back from his wanderings would have rushed to his palace to see his wife and children, much like the Mycenaean king Agamemnon, who was promptly murdered," Athena praised. "Your wife is still there in the palace, weeping. Do not let your heart guide your actions, for it will spell your doom. Use your mind, and once your wife is yours once again, let your heart soar."

With the wave of her hand, the land suddenly changed. Before, they had been in the middle of countryside, in foreign lands that Percy had never been to before. But now Ithaca emerged in its glittering glory, a land that came to life in his mind.

He saw the harbour of Phorcys that he'd been told of, a grand olive tree standing at its head. A lovely, shadowy cave was nearby that was sacred to Naiads. And further in the background sprouted the tip of a mountain above the trees. Mount Neriton.

Odysseus was overjoyed, and he kissed the fertile ground.

"Go first to find the swineherd, who may only be a keeper of your pigs but feels well-disposed towards you, and loves your son and loyal Penelope," Athena advised. "You will find him with the pigs by Raven's Crag, near the Spring of Arethusa. I will go to Sparta to summon your brave son Telemachus who journeyed to the palace of Megapenthes to seek any news of your being still alive."

"Why didn't you tell my son that I was still alive?" asked Odysseus.

"I guided him so he would win fame for travelling there, and he has no problems. I would only worry for the safety of Megapenthes, for his rule is unpopular in Sparta. Yes, those young men in their black ship wait to ambush him, keen to murder him before he reaches home, but that will not happen on my account. The Earth will close over the suitors who have stolen your possessions long before your son dies."

Then she touched him, and wrinkled his skin, thinned the hair on his head, and gave him the body of an old man. She dimmed his eyes and dressed him differently, in a wretched cloak and ragged tunic. She flung a large deerskin over his shoulders and handed him a staff, with a leather pouch, punctured here and there, hanging from a piece of braided cord.

"And you, Perseus," Athena said, her eyes sparkling dangerously.

She waved her hand, and Percy watched his clothing suddenly change. He was no longer dressed in a _chiton_ and cloak. He wore barbaric trousers and a garment that covered his upper body (which Athena called a long-sleeved shirt) along with leather armour padding. A thin cloak was draped over his head, and the goddess gracefully tied a kerchief (bandana) around his mouth and nose.

When she was done, she snapped her fingers and disappeared in a white bang. The image of Athena's godly form burned in his brain as she disappeared.

"You look…barbaric," Odysseus noted. "Un-Greek."

Percy pushed the hood off of his head, and pushed the bandana down so it didn't cover his face. "I never thought a bandana could be used this way. But I suppose it works. And these pants are far more comfortable than a _chiton_ or a tunic. Warmer on my manhood as well."

"Well, let's go find Eumaeus," said Odysseus.

"You know the swineherd's name?" asked Percy, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not that cold-hearted."

Percy pulled the hood back over his head. "Well, I am. I'm sure it looks normal for someone like me to be guarding an old man like you. Let's go."

And they made their way to Raven's Crag.

* * *

**I'm not so certain about this chapter, but I wanted to get something up for you guys that was something along these lines. I'm figuring out a new look for Percy, and I want him to look nothing like a warrior and nothing like a Greek. It makes him even more unorthodox, which is basically the point of this part of the story. Percy is unorthodox, betraying everything he was taught as a kid...as a Spartan just because he resents the Spartans. Blah blah blah, my reasoning is complete shite.**

**But otherwise, enjoy! Or don't. I guess...**

**Question of the Chapter: _Do you like Norse mythology? If you do, what's your favourite part about it? Why do you think the idea of Ragnarok is dope or nope?_  
**

**Thanks,  
SharkAttack719**


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